A Place Worth Going
by wibblywobblywhogirl
Summary: After the loss of a dear friend, Evelyn plans a hiking trip to clear her head, where she stumbles upon a circle of standing stones. The mysterious stones connect her with a destiny she never knew she was capable of, and show her that the world is much more bizarre and far more beautiful than she could have imagined. TW: Suicide
1. Elseetoss

_**A/N**_

 _ **Hey guys, I know I haven't written in literally like a year and a half. Nor have I finished my previous set of stories. I have some half written garbage for future chapters for Edge of the Glowing Stars, but I'm just so unhappy with the writing, I can't bring myself to upload it, and it's part of the reason I haven't been writing.**_

 _ **Quite simply, I haven't liked reading my own writing, and if even I can't enjoy it, you gotta assume no one else really would. I will try my best to maybe work on that, get that story updated if you guys want. In the meantime, I have started a new fic, based loosely on the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon. I highly recommend the books, as they are extremely well written, believable, and super steamy :] The TV show is also extraordinarily delightful, and it is cast perfectly :D**_

 ** _If you're new to my writings, welcome! I usually write Doctor Who fic, but I'm trying my hand at others. If you're an Outlander fan, I hope you don't mind OC's, because this story is full of them. Besides, if you read the entire series, what more could you want to dream up for our beloved characters? Diana does a fabulous job of delving deep into their lives, leaving little to imagination (much to my delight)._**

 ** _If you're a reader of The Glowing Stars series, welcome back my lovely! :D I'm amazed you're still tagging along, and I thank you for it! You're the best 3 Let me know if you really want more Edge of the Glowing Stars and I will deliver. Also yes. This OC is named Evelyn too. Think of it as an Alternate/Parallel Universe Evy! ;] We all know she'd get into shenanigans, Doctor or not._**

 ** _I couldn't get this premise out of my head, but I have no idea if I will finish it. I was in a writing mood for the first time in forever._**

 ** _Let me know if you like it, and I'll try to bring you more._**

 ** _Lots of love,_**

 ** _-A._**

* * *

 **December 26** **th** **, 2010**

The necklace at the base of my throat felt cold and heavy against my heated skin, with an energy all its own, as if made of some kind of earthen stone. In reality, it was a simple silver pendant in the shape of a compass, with the words " There are no shortcuts to anywhere worth going" inscribed on the back in elegant script.

It was probably fifteen bucks at Kohl's, and this was the first time in years that I had worn it, but I was acutely aware of it in a way I never had been before. I woke up this morning thinking about it, in fact, quite suddenly resurrected from forgotten memory.

It was quite suddenly one of my most precious and valuable possessions.

It had been a gift from my friend Ashley. She had given it to me a few years ago, for our friend's Christmas party that we had all thrown every year since the 7th grade. It was an apt gift, given that she and I were the adventurous ones of the group. We'd been exploring abandoned houses, disobeying 'No Trespassing' signs, and tip-toeing through graveyards for years, just the two of us. The compass represented our kindred sense of adventure, and I imagined her now, seeing it while out shopping with her mom, and thinking of me, as I was thinking of her now.

That had been the year we'd all had the idea to give each other Christmas makeovers. It turned into the five of us scribbling nonsense with eyeliner onto each others' faces and using lipstick to tattoo our skin with. Ashley had given herself lipstick tattoos of stars over both of her eyes and stood on the coffee table in Laura's basement with orange soda in one hand, and an unplugged karaoke mic in the other, belting some punk song none of us knew. Of course, we clapped and hooted and hollered at her anyway.

Ashley died eleven days ago.

I remember vividly, as I now know I always will for the rest of my life, getting the call. I was packing up my things, getting ready to go on Christmas break. A call from Maddie had interrupted the music I had been singing along to, and I had tucked it under my chin so as to continue packing, picked it up and answered in the strangest voice I could muster. It was our ritual.

"Hallo." I had rasped in a nasally accent, grinning a bit. I immediately sobered, hearing only sniffles and whimpering from the other end. I dropped the blouse I had been folding, and held the phone to my ear.

Maddie didn't cry easily, nor for trivial reasons.

"Maddie? What's wrong? What happened?"

I only remember sitting on the cold floor of my dorm for the next hour, shaking, tears falling from my eyes without end.

I had just texted her two days before it happened.

Two days. She was alive, asking me "When the fuck can I see your beautiful face?! I need an adventure!"

And just like that she was gone.

I didn't believe it for days, not truly, not deep in my soul. I couldn't accept it. It wasn't until now, driving to the second memorial service, the special one for her close friends and family, that I think I finally understood.

"You alright, Evy?"

I glanced over at the passenger seat, where knowing green eyes met mine, slightly slanted like a cat's. A slight smile automatically plastered itself to my lips. An instinctual reaction.

Maddie, my dearest friend in the entire world, knew me well. Well enough to know I wouldn't say no. She also knew I would crack open when I needed to, and only when I needed to. Asking was just her way of saying she understood, that we were in this together, as we always were.

I took a quick survey of her hairdo, which I had done myself. A simple bun made elegant by curling her long golden-brown hair into loose ringlets. Some of it had come loose, framing her pale, lightly freckled face. She was clutching the gift for Ashley's mom we'd gotten, an iridescent butterfly, full of color, to put in her garden. The card attached read simply:

The colors reminded us of Ash.

We love you

-Evelyn Crenshaw and Madison O' Brian.

We hadn't known what else to put.

"Yeah, I'm good. It's just… What do we say? How can we ever-"

I stopped, replacing the end of the sentiment with a long drawn out breath.

 _How can we ever express these emotions? How can we ever adequately comfort them in a time like this?_

There would be a line to greet Ashley's mom and dad, and with this more intimate setting, we would have more time to speak to them than the first memorial service.

"I hope they have alcohol." Maddie said, without the hint of a smile in her voice.

I nodded grimly.

"Me too."

* * *

I flopped down on the couch, the bottle of wine we had nabbed from Kroger clutched in my hand. It was, as of right now, unopened.

Maddie flopped down next to me, the plate of microwaved pizza rolls steaming in her hands.

We had changed out of our black dresses, now in our pajamas, ready to lose ourselves in a movie. Instead, we sat in silence for several moments.

"I'm emotionally exhausted." She muttered before carefully picking the perfectly heated pizza roll from the plate and popping it into her mouth.

"I'm glad we went. Ashley would've liked it." I said, twisting off the top of the bottle and taking a sip without even giving it time to breathe.

 _It's a generally unspoken rule, that if it's twist off, it's not fancy enough to require breathing._

The cheap wine burned its way down my throat, landing pleasantly in my stomach, warm and comforting.

"Yeah."

We switched, and I ate a few pizza rolls. She took a few large swigs.

Maddie's mom swept quietly into the room with an arm full of blankets. I was surprised she was awake. It was well past 1 a.m.

She laid one on each of us, her eyes watering.

"I'm so sorry, girls." She said, her voice shaking, and she gave each of us a kiss on the head before leaving, a hand over her mouth.

She had been crying sporadically like that all week.

 _I wonder how different the situation looks from a mother's perspective._

"I can't believe this is happening," Maddie muttered, "She was happy. Everything was going great for her. Made it into D.A.P… Had a nice boyfriend. She was making art like she had always wanted."

I could feel my expression darken. I remembered the haunted look, deep in her boyfriend Sam's reddened eyes. He was the one who found her.

"That we know of. You know she struggled for years, since the seventh grade."

"I know, but… She could've told one of us. You, me, Hope, Laura, Molly, her new college friends, Sam… She had all the support in the world. She was clean, had been for nearly a year. I just… I don't understand."

"We probably never will either." I said, reaching for the bottle.

"Yeah."

Ash didn't leave a note. She didn't text anyone or call anyone to reach out that night. She didn't do anything, except ask each of her high school friends, the five of us, to spend time together over Christmas break.

"She tried to wait, to say bye, I think." I said softly, and Maddie nodded, shoving a few pizza rolls down her throat to keep it from tightening.

The past week had been exactly as Maddie had said. Emotionally exhausting. Three services we had gone to, each special in its own way, and each requiring us to give a part of ourselves away.

I do think I understood a bit better why she might have done what she did, more than any of the others. She and I, we had a special connection. We had understood each other's disappointment in the world, and the knowledge that the world could not live up to our grandiose expectations of it. We had each, in our youth, needed the world to be dangerous and full of peril, full of adventure and the chances to prove ourselves worthy of them.

And when it wasn't… Well, a part of your soul withers away, if you let it.

I understood the deep disillusionment that came with realizing the world was not as strange nor incredible as we needed it to be. I also understood the impossibility of unhooking the claws of depression from your skin and bone once it had gotten ahold of you. Albeit, I only needed to deal with it in the winter, the only fortunate side-effect of Seasonal Affected Disorder.

She had to deal with it every day, of every week, of every year, for her entire life. Her depression did not give her the reprieve of summer and spring.

 _I can see how it might look hopeless… If you were the happiest you can imagine being, you have everything you ever thought you wanted, and you were still fucking miserable… I can see how she might not have seen another way._

I could sense the anger from Maddie, a sort of betrayal that Ashley would leave us so soon, and so purposefully. But I could feel no anger for her, nor did I feel betrayed.

I knew she only did what she felt she had to do, and I was in no place to judge her, as no one was. No one could know what she was going through, what it meant to be her.

 _Perhaps anyone might do the same if we were in her shoes._

I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and neck, feeling chilled suddenly.

 _Perhaps I would._

* * *

 **January 4th** **, 2011**

My gaze lingered on the blue-tinged mountain line spreading before my eyes, the road seeming to be engulfed by them the further down you looked. It wouldn't be more than a half hour now.

 _God, I needed this so badly._

I turned the volume of the music up, promptly sweeping my frazzled mind free of thought.

My backpack, whom I'd affectionately named The Hulk, on account of his size and bright green hue, was sitting shotgun, fat and full of things I'd need for my short trip. I'd packed it almost expertly, if I do say so myself, to include my small tent, sleeping bag, food, iodine tablets, lanterns, books, flashlights, portable heater, and clothes.

 _Everything a girl could need._

I briefly felt bad for not inviting Maddie, but I knew she would understand. I do this every so often, and she knows it's just something I need. Some people exercise to de-stress. Some eat, some pick fights, some go clubbing, some lock themselves away in their rooms until they feel they can stomach the sight of another human face.

Not saying I've not done most, if not all, of those at some point or another to find relief, but more often than not, I'm not one to find comfort in a slice of cake or between the heart-throbbing beats of a DJ's song.

I find peace in the whispering of wind through trees, in the sunlight's brilliant dance of color across the sky as it rises and sets, the chattering of the animals who make the forest their home.

But most of all, in the thrill of being a part of the rhythm of it all. Something deeply buried and primal, a need to be a part of the cycle of life, to see it happening before my eyes, I think. The desire to be a part of the ever-unfolding adventure, rather than its master, as humanity seems to inherently strive for above all else.

 _Ashley understood that._

A bit later, with trees looming over the winding road in a timeless arch of fiery color, leading me up the rocky terrain typical of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the sunlight filtered down through the leaves. By the look of it, I knew that I'd need to set up camp quickly if I wanted to get a hike in before it got too dark. My heart fluttered its wings against the cage of my ribs at the thought of exploring, of not knowing what's around the corner, stretching my legs a bit.

After the past few weeks, mired in sadness and tears, I was ready for this. I was ready to begin moving forward. Or upward, in my case.

I was hoping to reach the peak of Mount Pisgah, one I'd never hiked before.

I remembered typing in the directions into my phone to get here and seeing a review someone had left of the hiking in the area. They'd said it was a magical place. Enduring, and lovely. They'd mentioned that the Cherokee called it…

 _Elseetoss, or something… Elsateese? Elsotass?_

 _Whatever it was, I wonder what it meant to them. I know what it will mean to me…_

My eyes darted to the wallet hanging conspicuously out of the glovebox. An old school ID that Ash had left at my house, so many years ago in middle school, was tucked in the front pocket with my license. Her blonde hair was cropped short, and her smile was full of mischief. I had promised her mom to bring her with me wherever I went, on every adventure I went on from this day to my last.

 _I don't think she knew how literally I meant it._

* * *

I reached up towards the setting sun, and stretched my back, having been hunched over nailing the metal stakes into the ground. I had nestled my tent beneath two trees, beginning to blaze with fall colors.

 _I'd better get going soon if I want to get back before it's entirely dark… I suppose I can do the rest by lantern-light tonight._

I bit my lip against a grin and snatched the Hulk up off the grass, haphazardly tossing out all of my campsite items into my tent. I left little more than the water bottle and iodine tablets, extra clothes, and my knife in the bag, leaving him much more deflated than when I'd started. I laced up my hiking boots in a rush and set out on the peak trail for Mount Pisgah.

My heartbeat seemed to synchronize with my feet as they carried me, just as the wind seemed to fill my lungs of its own accord. I could sense the tension leaving me with every breath. Everything about the forest seemed joyful and as it should be in the red-orange light of the sun reflecting off the leaves. But, in the flashes of sunlight between the leaves, I saw blue eyes, lightened with laughter, always making me smile with her offbeat spirit.

 _Ashley would love this…_

My feet went on autopilot, thinking of the last time I'd spoken to her, months ago, before hauling off to North Carolina State.

We were sitting on the train car that was always parked behind the gas station on 42. We'd just gotten back from exploring a supposedly haunted road. Apparently a trucker had died, going too fast on the windy road, and had haunted it ever since.

If he did, he didn't care to make an appearance for us.

She'd taken a drag of her cigarette and crossed her arms, saying "One day, we'll find something real, and you know what, Evy?"

"What?"

"We're not going to know what the hell to do with it." She'd said, laughing.

My body lurched forward as my foot stayed behind, caught on a root, and I scrambled to catch my balance, yanking my foot up and forward. Sucking in a startled breath, I glanced around, noticing that the path I was on was not well worn, nor was it going up in an incline as it had before.

I hesitated, knowing the risk of going off the path in an unfamiliar place like this. It was getting darker, colder, and my chances of getting lost were getting higher and higher by the second. I glanced back, seeing that I'd only been on this path for several feet or so. It would be the easiest thing to just get back on track.

 _But why shouldn't I have just a little bit of adventure? I've done crazier things. I've hung off the sides of cliffs, I've trekked across icy mountain ledges! I think I can handle blazing a trail in the dark._

 _Besides, Ash would be disappointed in me if I didn't…_

I ducked under branches and dodged spider webs for what seemed like forever, the path getting less and less clear as I went, until I was simply crashing my way through underbrush. My bare legs, clad in black, knee-length athletic tights, acquired too many stinging scratches to count, and God knows I'd probably become familiar with several poison ivy plants.

I could imagine Ash behind me, angrily swiping at the branches, pretending we were completely lost, and being completely delighted at the thought.

 _You always were hoping to get lost._

Just as I began to question the intelligence of my decision, or the point of it even, I could see an abrupt clearing, not too far beyond a line of trees ahead. By sheer strength of will, I forced myself through the gaps in the intertwined tree branches, strangely low to the ground, and popped out into a clearing.

My heart pounding, I took in the view before me. I found myself on a short outcrop, overlooking the whole forest below in a sweeping panorama. Up to the left, I could see the bald of the mountain peak, and the greens and oranges and reds of the valley below, as far as I could see, until it was swallowed by the blazing sky.

It was with a lazy smile that I realized this was one of those rare, very special moments. A moment untouched by anyone or anything else, a kind of personal secret place you can always revisit in memory to remind yourself that adventure does exist, if you only search for it.

 _I'll always remember this sight…_

My dark hair, still straightened from when I'd done it this morning, swirled with the wind in long ribbons, seeming to caress my face, and I smiled wider, as if it were a purposeful gesture. I had the distinct feeling that I was supposed to find this place, this stunning overlook.

I was about to shrug the Hulk off to sit for a bit, watch the sun finish its dance, when I noticed something peeking at me from behind some tall bushes, chock full of bright red berries. I jumped, my mind immediately assuming I was being hunted, until I realized the dark shape was no more than a stone. A very tall stone.

My interest piqued, I set the Hulk down, not wanting to lug him through the bushes and get berries smooshed all over him. My feet carried me towards the odd structure, my arms propelled me through the tightly knit foliage, and I stumbled a bit over a gnarled bit of branches, falling to my knees in a patch of dirt.

 _Very soft, barren dirt.._.

I lifted my eyes to see that the stone was not alone, but one of many of varying heights, all taller than me. They stood solemnly in a circle, with the largest in the center, standing vigil over a ring of dirt. Nothing, not a single blade of grass, not even a single weed, grew in the circle.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe or move, or think properly, my brain trying to process the strangeness of the stone circle. Finally, I managed to heave myself up, and brush my knees off of the ruddy, powdery dirt. Staring at the structure, I could see that every stone was very old, and I very much wanted to get a closer look. Yet, the moment I stepped into the circle, uneasiness settled into my bones, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. It was as if every ancient instinct I'd ever acquired was screeching at me to turn back, run away, never set eyes on these stones ever again.

Smiling blue eyes urged me on.

I took a tremulous breath to steady my suddenly shaking knees, and took another step, towards the center stone. The closer I got, the easier it was to see the weathered runes chiseled into its wide girth, though time and the elements had all but eaten them away to nothingness. I squinted my eyes slightly as I got within reach, trying to discern a language from them, even just a recognizable symbol.

"How old are you, exactly?" I muttered, reaching a tentative hand toward a more pronounced rune, my fingers itching to trace it.

 _What man, or woman, had carved this into the stone? How long ago had they lived? What wonders had they seen, and what Gods led them to make this structure?_

My lips parted ever so slightly, sucking in a breath of shock and confusion as my finger met with the stone. It was blazing hot, yet startlingly cold at the same time.

Suddenly, a deep ringing exploded through my head, pain erupting in what must have been every bone in my entire body. Deep drumming blasted the air around me, the air in my lungs. The vibrations were so deep, so loud!

I wanted to snatch my hand back, cover my ears, escape the circle, do something, anything, but I was frozen to the spot. My feet would not obey me.

Panic rose in my chest, and before I lost all sense of bodily direction, I could feel my heart fluttering as if struggling to continue pumping.

The last I heard among the rumbling was high pitched keening, very distinct and recognizable, something that sparked the will to survive within me.

Human screams of utter and complete terror.

* * *

 _Cold._

I dragged a deep breath of crisp air through my nose, willing my eyes to open.

 _Dark…_

I let out a throaty groan, my throbbing head worsening as I cracked an eye open to see the brightest stars I'd ever seen in my life, twinkling merrily, blissfully unaware of my pain.

"What the hell…" I growled, sitting up with sore muscles to see that I had been planted firmly on my back in the ring of dirt, still within the stone circle. An imprint the size and shape of my body remained in the dirt below. With a frown creasing my brow, I glanced up at the sky again. It must have been an hour or so that I'd been out, for the moon was rising steadily on the horizon.

I felt as though I'd been hit by a train.

Scratch that.

Several trains, one after the other, with spikes on front, and cement rollers in the back. My joints ached like I'd contracted the flu, and my muscles felt as though they'd been worked to hell and back.

I made a move to stand up, rocking forward, but my legs were jelly, and immediately failed me. I plopped back down to take a determined breath before trying again.

This time I managed to stand up, wobbly as I was. I almost reached out to steady myself with a hand on one of the stones, but it only took the brief memory of that deep resonance, that terrifying rumbling, to stop me.

 _And that horrible screaming…_

I stretched my arms over my head, trying to get some of the kinks out before heading back to camp. I'd need a little more strength than I thought I had, and being wound tighter than a rubber band wouldn't help.

 _An_ _earthquake_ , my rational mind quipped, _that's what happened, of course! You fell and hit your head from the tremors, and you're confused. That's all._

Whatever the case, I knew one thing.

I wanted, more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, to get away from that stone circle. Staring at the stones now made me feel unwelcome and endangered, like a trespasser on some sacred ground, for which the penalty was death.

I needed to get back to my tent.

I turned and made my way to the line of bushes, climbing through slowly and carefully. Surely, this wouldn't be as confusing with a flashlight. I made straight for where I'd left the Hulk an hour or so ago, several feet from the edge of the outlook.

The stars and moon gave ample light to see far enough, yet I didn't see the Hulk where I'd left him. In fact, I didn't see him anywhere in sight…

 _Maybe an animal found him and dragged him into the tree-line._

I gritted my teeth and headed for where I knew the path through the trees would be. It was about halfway down the treeline adjacent to the outcrop, and using the silver light that the night so kindly provided me, I found it and pushed through to the other side.

The brush was nearly impenetrable, it was so grown over, and the trail was nonexistent. I bit my lip, slightly fearing I'd gone insane at this point.

 _Well... I know the general direction, so if I just keep going that way, I should reach the original trail, right?_

I wandered through the trees and bushes, acquiring even more scratches and cuts than I'd had before. I wondered idly how many ticks I had on me. Right now, contracting Lyme disease was the least of my problems.

It was becoming colder by the second out, and my tights and light jacket weren't doing much to help insulate body heat. I needed to wrap this up, and soon.

 _How hard did I hit my head, exactly?_

Everything looked different in the forest, and yet the same. One tree, who had been gigantic, old and hollow with age and insects, had no hole in it… It seemed perfectly healthy now.

 _Maybe you're mistaking it for another tree._

The stream I'd passed on my way here seemed wider somehow, deeper…

 _How would you know? It's not like you dove in and crossed it._

The strangest thing, though, was the bridge at the trailhead over the stream, a wooden bridge built by the park rangers and volunteers years before.

It was gone. Non-existent. Absolutely vanished.

 _Well… Not sure how to write that one off…_

Adrenaline spiked in my blood. Fear began to seep into my heart. What was going to happen to me if I couldn't find my way back? I'd been hearing horror stories about missing hikers for years, from my mother. She'd always made me promise never to go hiking alone, and I'd always broken that promise. Perhaps this was my punishment.

I'd never feared the trees or the animals. It was always humans that had terrified me most, the prospect of running into an ill-meaning stranger, perhaps a deranged man who happened to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed and thought he deserved a little pick-me-up…

 _Now_ , _don't panic… That's the worst thing you can do in-_

Suddenly, the snap of a twig to my right, further down the stream on my side, made me jump and my breath caught in my throat. Loud as a gunshot in the peaceful quiet of the night, it made my heart leap into a headlong gallop.

Frantic thoughts of crazed psychopath killers, flesh-eating monsters, and all too real predators for that matter, shot through my mind, setting my synapses ablaze like lightning. I wouldn't be able to run very fast in my condition, exhausted and banged up from the earthquake. Not to mention, even with the moon and stars, it was still too dark to see far enough for sprinting through trees…

Another snapped twig, accompanied by a low growl and the answering canine yapping in the darkness, and I'd quickly made up my mind to leap down the embankment into the stream.

 _Seriously, you've got to be joking… Wolves? Actual wolves? Maybe it's just a few dogs, friendly little puppies!_

 _Are there even wolves in this region?_

Yet I wasn't about to turn around and find out.

The water was ice cold, having flowed down from the top of the mountain. My breath caught in my lungs, as frozen as my skin. Trying my best to disregard the sudden loss of my ability to breathe, I heaved my way across the waist-deep water, cursing under my breath as it got deeper. Soon, I was swimming for all that I was worth, toward the other side of the river and, hopefully, safety.

 _Wolves don't like to swim, do they?_

Frustrated, high-pitched whining on the other side of the river seemed to promptly answer that question. I kept sloshing my way through the water as, much to my relief, it got shallow enough for my water-logged hiking boots to touch once again.

 _Oh sure, a relaxing weekend hiking, alone, in the fucking mountains. Relaxing, is that what this is? Time to think, huh? Time to mend?_

 _What a fucking joke._

 _I just had to explore, didn't I? Couldn't stick to the plan, as per usual._

Howls erupted on the embankment, the sound of reluctant splashing at my back causing me to panic and become clumsy. In my haste, I slipped on the moss-covered rocks of the opposite embankment, dashing my knees upon the sharp slipperiness beneath the water.

 _Persistent little buggers! All for some skin and bone human? Am I really worth it?_

Yet, I doubted they wanted to listen to my very logical explanation of why they shouldn't eat me, and thus, once my feet hit dry dirt past the rocks and mud of the bank, I broke out into a sprint. I doubted I'd be able to outrun them very long once they got out of the water, but I couldn't just give up. Trees flew past me in the blackness, and I barely had the reflexes to dodge them as they came.

 _I have to do something. Think quickly, think smart!_

My feet skidded to a halt, and I jumped up, clawing at the first branch I could get my hands on. I pulled myself up onto the fat bit of tree, climbing up to the next one, just above my head. My arms shook and my legs burned, but I climbed a third rung in the tree I'd made into my personal ladder, and hugged it to my chest, face pressed awkwardly to the scratchy bark of the trunk.

Excited barking and howling announced their arrival.

The pack was coming for me, and my breathing, despite the desperate need to gulp air into my lungs, became quiet. I dared not move when I heard leaves crunching below, in many different spots. There were at least five wolves, probably more. A large pack for wolves anywhere, especially in North Carolina…

They knew I was up in that tree, my scent probably reeking of fear and adrenaline. They circled beneath it for what seemed like hours, growling and snapping at one another in frustration at the wasted effort of their hunt. I imagined I could see their yellow eyes, glowing orbs of hunger and blood-lust, staring up at me in the darkness.

After a while, my shoulders began to ache with the effort of clutching the tree branch, and my thighs screamed in protest as well. I deemed it safe to move position, and carefully maneuvered myself to sit upright, my back against the trunk.

Enthusiastic whining sounded as I moved. I chose to ignore it.

My mind wandered, thinking of what might have happened had I chosen a different tree. I would have climbed one branch up, maybe two, and perhaps the third would have snapped. I'd have been torn to bits… Alive.

I was extremely lucky to have picked a sturdy tree.

I patted the branch beneath me in honest gratitude, and whispered thanks under my breath. Exhaustion was quickly setting in, my body shaking with the cold and effort I'd expended while staying alive. I couldn't see or hear the wolves anymore, but I wasn't risking anything.

As the hours crawled past, I watched the blackness turn into gray.

The silence of night gave way to the bustle of morning in the forest. Finally having gathered enough courage, I pushed the leaves I'd covered myself with off. Very slowly, I slid from branch to branch, my shaking limbs hugging the trunk whenever they could for support. I paused on every branch to listen and watch for the wolves.

They were definitely gone, and with that comforting knowledge, I let myself drop to the ground. I landed in an ungraceful heap, sitting for a moment in the leaves before heaving myself up.

After brushing the dirt and leaves off as best I could, I took a look at my surroundings from this vantage point. My heart dropped into my toes, my stomach curling unpleasantly. I'd fallen into the trap that every hiker dreads. A distraction leads to curiosity. Curiosity leads inevitably to somewhere no one can find you.

 _I have no supplies._

 _I have no means of communication. And worst of all..._

 _I have no idea where I am._


	2. Wahwala Zuzeca

_Okay, Evy._

 _Just stay calm. Be aware of your body. Don't panic._

I carefully slid my foot along the slim edge of the cliff I was currently perched on, closer to my goal with every fear-stricken step. Far below, the river I had forded several hours ago ran with reckless abandon. I realized that the area I had crossed at was rather shallow compared to the rest of it. Some parts foamed with white water, but the rest was deep and dark with depth.

My throat convulsed in sudden panic when my body lurched back a bit, and I immediately tore my gaze from the water, back to the rock in front of me. I could easily climb back up from where I was, to solid, sturdy ground, but I could also easily lose my footing on the loose rocks of the cliff's edge.

 _I don't even know if that stuff is flint or just plain old rock…_

I fixed my eyes upon the brownish blue patch of rock, tantalizingly close, the reason I was dangling myself above a raging river. It was not a question of whether I wanted it or not. I needed it, undeniably. Flint meant fire, fire meant warmth, it meant clean food and water.

 _Just a few more feet._

Finally, I reached the patch of flint, and I hurriedly filled my pockets with the biggest chunks I could break off. My hands scrambled to pull my trembling body up from the cliff-face the instant I had enough of it. I flopped onto my back, breathing heavily. I could feel the sweat forming upon my brow despite the chill in the air. It must have been somewhere around midday by now. The sky was blue, the wind much crisper than it had been the day before. Winter was definitely here, despite the mild weather we had been having. North Carolina wasn't known for her snowy winters, for sure, and for that I was thankful.

 _I'd quite literally be dead if it were snowing._

After I had dropped from the tree earlier today, and after a brief panic episode, I'd walked in one direction for a few hours, figuring that in a national park, I'd have to find someone or something. A landmark, a road, a sign pointing me in the right direction.

I found nothing. No paths, besides game trails. No roads, and definitely no people. Just trees, thorn bushes, more trees, some poison oak, and a surprising number of deer. I'd gone into survival mode shortly after realizing my mouth was slowly turning into chilled cotton.

Another day and a half without water, and I'd be completely useless. Unable to travel any distance worth travelling, unable to find resources…

 _I'll be a dead woman walking._

With that delightful notion, I heaved myself up, dusting my hands and knees off. I needed kindling, dry material, and branches, anything I could use to start a fire and get warm. If I can get it to be big enough...

 _Maybe someone will see the smoke!_

My spirits bolstered, I began snatching up any twigs I could get my hands on from the ground. Any occasional fallen branches were a welcome addition to my collection, as well as any dry leaves or underbrush I could get. I tossed them in a pile, circling outward from my temporary base of operation just past the tree-line near the cliff, in search of more.

Once satisfied that I'd have enough to start a fire and keep it going for several hours, I gathered up all the leaves I had found, pushing them gently into the tent of twigs, and then branches I'd fashioned. I mentally prepared myself for failure, knowing this wouldn't be easy. My fingers deftly braided my long hair back, and away from any embers that may or may not be making an appearance today. Getting a good handle on the two biggest pieces of flint I had, I paused to take a deep breath.

 _Please actually be flint._

With quite a bit of force, I dashed the two rocks together, and a few sparks sputtered to life between them. Laughter bubbled up in my chest, overjoyed that this rock was in fact flint, and not some imposter. Then I frowned, disappointed in the lack of fireworks, so to speak, and tried again, with more force this time. More sparks flew out, but not enough to catch the dry leaves.

Over and over I smashed the rocks together, until my arms were shaking, quickly turning to jelly. I'd crushed my fingers more than once, and had already chipped off three fingernails. At least 30 minutes had passed before I began to think I was never getting fire like this.

"Work, damn you!" I growled, and with a hiss of pain, I felt the skin of my right palm give way to the sharp edges of the flint. The wicked rocks fell to the ground, and I let myself relax a moment, gritting my teeth against the dull pain. Taking a look at my hand, a dribble of crimson blood had made its way from the shallow cut made by the flint. It would be healed by tomorrow, more likely than not, but it hurt like hell.

My second-wind having returned after a minute or so of rest, I sat up and gripped the rocks in my stinging hands again. I put what I felt must have been the remainder of my strength into one last try, a final stand. A flurry of sparks shot from between the rocks, and I saw the orange glow of a young fire. Immediately, I dropped the rocks, and myself, to the ground, blowing gently into the tent. Smoke obligingly rose into the sky, and I had to reign in the joy exploding in my chest, for fear of losing my new fickle companion. I dared not cease my work as a human bellows. I didn't care if dirt was getting in the cut on my hand. My mind was of a single track at the moment.

 _Fire!_

At last, I let out a loud whoop of triumph, slightly dizzy and out of breath, rocking back on my heels to observe my handiwork. It grew steadily, feeding on the twigs and branches I had foraged for it.

 _I did it. I totally got it, this isn't so hard! Take that Bear Grylls!_

Then I looked down at my hands, caked in dirt, beaten, bloody, and bruised as they were.

 _Well… It was doable at least…_

* * *

The sharp crack of a twig snapped me out of the light sleep I'd managed to lull myself into, with help from the warmth of the fire. It was darker than it had been when I'd dozed off, the fire much dimmer. I remembered searching for something to boil water in, maybe an old pan someone had discarded, a Coke can, anything… Without any luck, I'd given up after a few hours, feeling a little light-headed, and made camp around my fire. It was completely dark now.

 _Perhaps it was a deeper sleep than I'd thought. Seems I've underestimated how exhausted I was._

I sat up from the pathetic bed of leaves I'd gathered for myself, my eyes scanning the trees around me for movement. My breathing ceased, my body stilled completely.  
I had an uneasy knot in my stomach, the feeling of being inspected, like a rabbit under the watchful gaze of a hawk surveying its next meal.

 _No more wolves, please. Anything but wolves._

Several moments later, an owl hooted, as if chuckling at my skittishness.

I took a deep breath, yawning, and quickly regretting it as the cold night air dried my already parched mouth. Reluctantly, I pushed myself up out of the leaves, squinting in the dim light of the fire for more wood to throw on. Seeing the outline of a branch a few feet away, I reached for it.

The branch reached for me, too.

 _Holy mother of Jesus, that is not a branch-_

An embarrassingly guttural screech tore through my teeth, and I snatched my hand back, my feet dancing backward with a mind of their own. The snake was much too big for my liking, its delicate, diamond-shaped head roughly the size of a large apple. It slithered closer to the fire, and to me, apparently enjoying the heat as much as I had been for the last few hours.

"Oh, just go away, isn't it too cold for you?" I whimpered.

The snake stuck its tongue out, taunting me with its non-chalance. It slithered closer, black eyes on me.

"Oh, come on! Aren't you supposed to be more scared of me than I am of you, or something?" I said, my voice cracking in fear. I ended up back-pedaling just a bit too far, stumbling over a branch. Incidentally, it was the very same branch I had been searching for just a moment ago.

The snake's tongue darted from its scaled mouth, and the thought of the fangs hidden behind it kept me scrabbling backwards on the forest floor. I picked up the branch, waving it around in front of me, hoping to scare the damned thing off.

"Back! Go on! Get!" I yelled, flailing the branch around some more. The snake was highly unimpressed. It just watched the branch, its head moving back and forth with it. Then, with a final tongue flick in my direction, its body curled up into a tight coil, settling itself comfortably close to the fire.

I lowered the branch, my jaw dropping incredulously.

 _Seriously?_

"Oh no. No, no no, I worked damn hard for this fire, you don't get to steal it from me, I muttered, standing up, watching the snake carefully as I went. It didn't seem to regard me quite as highly. Its beady eyes watched the last flickering licks of fire in the embers.

 _What a strange creature. I've never heard of a wild snake acting this way…_

I broke off a thick section of branch, and by way of one of the flint stones I had used to make the fire, and to cut my hand with, I began sharpening the end.  
You don't get to take away the one thing I've managed to do right in the last 36 hours, I told the snake, And, you know… I'm getting pretty damn hungry. Maybe I'll have some nice juicy snake-kebab for dinner.

The snake didn't so much as glance in my direction.

"Alright, fine! Have it your way, then." I said, finishing my make-shift spear with one last swipe of flint. I gripped it in my right hand, taking a deep breath and a step towards the coiled serpent. It lifted its head to regard me calmly, flicking its tongue, watching me with those curious beads of pure black. I raised the spear, my own gaze fixed upon its delicate head.

I stayed frozen in the indecisiveness of the hunt for several moments, biting the inside of my cheek. I kept imagining what would happen if I managed to run it through. I could see its body writhing mindlessly, curling around the spear as if to free itself, although already dead. I couldn't help but cringe, inside and out, at the thought.

Growing up, my parents were young, and poorer for it. They did the best they could for us, but sometimes we had to deal with rather unpleasant aspects of housing. One being that our basement had a terrible infestation of centipedes. They weren't too terribly large, but all the same, my mom would scream and demand that my dad kill every single centipede unfortunate enough to wander into her field of view. I was the lone crusader on the side of the centipedes, begging my father to take them outside instead of crush them with the dreaded paper towel. I'd cup them in my own hands, and take them out myself if I ever found one, knowing I was saving a life. I remember how I'd cringe at the sound of them crunching, hating how my dad just threw them in the trash so unceremoniously…

Apparently that little girl still lived somewhere inside me.

My stomach growled angrily as I lowered the spear, curling painfully just to spite me. I regarded the snake for a few more moments, watching as it lowered its head. I liked to imagine it understood the unspoken conversation we'd just had.

 _You stay on your side, I'll stay on mine._

I broke the spear over my knee, and carefully placed the two halves on the fire, along with a few other branch segments. The snake didn't seem to mind, in fact, he seemed to appreciate it, curling tighter as the fire kicked up a notch. I sat opposite the snake, unable to quite trust him for what must have been an hour.

 _After all, he did steal my leaf bed…_

* * *

It was a tiring business, tending a fire all night. It had a built-in alarm clock, with freezing cold to replace the obnoxious electronic ringing. I'd doze, along with my odd snake friend, for an hour or so, and then add more wood to it. Lather, rinse, repeat. By the time the sun had risen, I felt no more rested than I had nine hours before.

Sometime in the last hour of our interrupted nap-time, the snake left, probably to find something to eat, and bask on a rock for the rest of the day. It was smarter, and better equipped, than I was in that department. I felt slightly regretful at not having eaten him, given the periodic hunger pangs in my stomach. But, all in all, it was not food I needed desperately, although my stomach begged to differ. It growled furiously, flip-flopping around in protest to having been empty for this long. I felt weak, as well. My hands shook, and my legs buckled much too often, but it was not from lack of food.

 _I need to find something clean to drink. I need water._

I needed a lot of things, actually, and it wasn't looking good at this point. Unless I got extremely lucky, scored an easy food source, and found drinkable water, I'd just keep getting worse. By the end of today, my guess is I'd be nearly useless.

So, without any clear idea in my foggy head of what I was looking for, I set a thick bit of wood on the fire, and left my makeshift camp.

My feet moved of their own accord, my eyes scanning the ground and trees for anything I might find useful. I'm not sure how long I'd been walking before I caught sight of a tall hill. Step by step, I heaved myself up the steep ground, upon which a clearing seemed to sit. Perhaps I'd be able to see something from there.  
em I will never ask for anything else for as long as I live if I can just find a road.

I reached the top, huffing and puffing, my stomach curling in nausea. I sat against the trunk of a tree, looking out at the horizon before me. It was just trees, as far as I could see.

 _What if I never find my way out of this forest? What if I die here?_

 _I've seen what happens to parents when they bury their own child. And f_ _or my friends, my poor friends, it will be two they've lost in less than a month._

 _Maddie._

I imagined my best friend, dark water falling from her perfectly made-up eyes at another funeral. Except this time, she wouldn't have me. She would be alone. I knew somehow she would find a way to blame herself. I knew she would think she was cursed to lose the people she loved. I knew she would be broken, and I couldn't let that happen.

 _I'll fight until my last breath before I let them suffer like that. Not on my account..._

Anger licked at the sides of my ribs, warmth building from my heart.

 _I have to get back._

I got ready to drag myself back to camp, glancing over my shoulder at my path, only to see a dark plume of smoke billowing up from the treeline.

 _The fire_.

My first instinct was to think I'd started a forest fire. Smoky the Bear popped into my addled mind, deeply disappointed in me, shaking his furry head in shame. But the more I stared at it, the more I thought it was too much smoke concentrated in such a thin plume to be spreading.

 _Someone had to have put it out._

 _With water._

 _Water I could drink, maybe._

The burning dryness of my throat flared painfully. I lurched upwards to my feet, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to topple me over, and plodded back down the hill, towards my camp. Hope for a rescue made me even dizzier, my heartbeat too fast for comfort.

Regardless of that hope, scenarios of disappointment flashed through my head as I walked.

 _Perhaps a bear peed on it._

 _Maybe it was an isolated rain cloud. A very isolated rain cloud. One situated right over my hard-earned fire._

 _That would be just my-_

Suddenly I was staring at another human face. It took my brain a second to recognize that fact. But yes! Someone stood in front of me, having stepped out from behind the tree I was currently leaning on.

"You're here!" I said in my excitement, before even considering what to say, or even properly assessing my newly found human companion. I shook my head, pausing to clear my scratchy throat, "What I mean is... I need help."

He didn't move to reply, or smile, or anything really. Calmly, he regarded me with wide dark eyes, observing me closely, so I began to do the same to him. It was a tall young man, not much older than me, dressed in what must have been deerskin clothes. His shirt was finely made, deerskin or not, with colorful seams, and the small, delicate form of a bird stitched in green just above his left pectoral. His pants were much the same, but his feet were entirely bare, and, I imagine very cold. A wooden bow was slung across his chest, arrows in a quiver that rested comfortably on his shoulder, hanging at his side for quick access. A rather large knife sat at his hip.

 _Maybe he's some kind of re-enactment actor, or something? Is there a reservation near here? Maybe Cherokee, but… Did they still go out hunting in this kind of outfit?_

"Taku tokhanun so, wahwala zuzeca?" the man said, his dark brown eyes watching mine.

"I don't understand, I'm sorry… Do you speak English?" I said softly, backing up a step instinctively when he leaned toward me, looking at my jacket. He took a step forward, still assessing me with those eyes. My stomach did an unpleasant somersault as the silence stretched longer, and longer. We stared at each other with a feral kind of energy, tensed and ready for a fight or a flight.

"Parlez-vous francais?" He said finally, and I immediately cursed myself for not paying attention more in high school French.

 _'Oh, I won't have to use it, I'll never need to be fluent. Getting a C is fine!'_

 _Lies!_

"Do I speak French? Oui, um… un peu," I said, fiddling with my hair, and realizing it was full of leaves and twigs, "Que… um… Qu'est-ce que vous… faire?"

 _Yes, a little. What are you doing?_

He glanced down, at his various array of weapons.

"Je chasse. Hier, je vous'ai vu, avec le serpent... Qu'est ce qu'une femme fait ici, seule? Où est votre mari?"

Panic started to rise in my throat when the quickly uttered words made little sense to me. I needed help, and if I couldn't get it from this man, I didn't know what I was going to do. I had no fire, I had no food, I had no water, and I was a day from death. My eyes stung, but no tears came, and I looked down, taking a shaking breath to calm myself.

When I looked up, he was watching me, wary concern replacing the distrust in his gaze.

"S'il vous plait, monsieur. Je suis…" I touched my throat, remembering only the word for drink, "Boire."

He raised one dark brow, the copper skin of his forehead furrowing. He was confused, not by my words, I think, but by my very presence here. Not exactly shock at seeing someone way out here, but seeing me specifically, and in the state I was in, was apparently shocking.

I didn't blame him. I probably looked like some kind of savage.

With one last glance at me, my clothing, my eyes, my hair, he wordlessly turned, throwing a nod behind him. A sign to follow him. I stumbled over my own feet before falling in line behind him.

We walked for miles, at least five or six, judging from my inner pedometer. I spoke plenty, but with my broken French, and his apparent dislike of conversation, I hadn't gotten much in the way of answers. He led me through countless trees, over a few streams, past a gigantic over-turned tree-stump, and through a marshy area until he turned to me at last.

 _Where was he taking me? To the trail head? To a camp? A town?_

The sun had lowered in the sky significantly, I noticed. My legs were jelly, and I wasn't sure how I was upright at this point. He put a large, calloused hand on my shoulder, and then brought a finger to his lips.

"Soyez silence, wahwala zuzeca. Ils seront en colere. Comprenez?"

 _Be silent… They will be… angry?_

"Who- Um… Qui?" I asked, whispering already, glancing around us, searching for anyone lurking in the growing shadows. He just shook his head, once again put a finger to his lips, and marched on.

I had no choice but to follow.


	3. Wasicuta

I became more aware of changes in the woods as my guide led me on. The first difference I noticed was the earthen scent.

A mixture of the musky warmth of horse's skin, the scent of mild spices and herbs, of hearth fires.

The second difference was the ground we trod upon. It became much more of a well-worn path rather than the brush we had been pushing through. He was leading me to a camp-site.

And the third… The birds were quieter here. Their chirps and caws were much less frequent, as if they feared discovery by some nearby predator, lurking among them.

I found it harder and harder to focus on my own thoughts. They darted to and fro, perhaps fearing wasting too much time and energy on a single notion. A light fog seemed to have laid itself upon my brain, and I followed my rescuer in a dazed silence.

I watched his long, braided black hair, gently swaying upon his back with every step he took. It was tied at the end with a thin strip of deerskin, like his clothing. He seemed more nervous the closer we got to his camp, adjusting his quiver upon his shoulder needlessly and fiddling with his knife. He walked even more carefully, his bare feet making absolutely no noise upon the soft dirt of the path. I don't think he realized he was doing it, a subconscious reaction to his apparent anxiety about whoever was at his camp.

Despite his uneasiness, I was rather impatient to get to wherever we were going.

 _To water, to food, and beyond!_

I choked out a chuckle, imagining my very serious guide dressed as Buzz Lightyear. The thought was so funny that my feet went haywire, and I tripped over nothing. He whirled around, snatching me to him before my body could reach the dirt. His rough hands steadied me for a moment, but when my knees buckled, his brow furrowed, his thin lips pressed together. I grinned at him, my vision fluttering as my eyelids tried to close of their own accord.

"I am so tired…" I said, feebly pushing him away and trying to stand on my own again.

"Tokheka aniu," he uttered, and as if I were nothing more than a ragdoll, he picked me up like a child, and swung me over his shoulder, "Wanya maktepi kte li, Wahwala Zuzeca."

The blood rushed to my head, making me even giddier. I wanted to laugh, but found I was too breathless to do so. His smooth step barely jostled me for the next few minutes as he carried me. I glanced to the side, seeing an upside down version of a wooden wall, made of long, thick birch tree branches, pointed at the top. I turned my gaze back into his deerskin shirt, breathing in his foreign scent, letting myself go limp. It was exhausting to try and turn my torso to inspect my surroundings. He brought us through a gap in the wall, and I heard murmuring in that same strange language my rescuer sometimes used.

"Kuruk! Tuwa?" A tiny voice shouted above the murmuring, making me turn my head in curiosity.

"Hei cha wayazan," I heard him reply, and his deep voice resonated through his body, against my cheek. A little girl with long black hair and skin the color of caramel came into view, reaching towards me. Her face was much like the man's whose shoulder I was currently perched on, strong-jawed and wide lipped, with a chiseled nose and brow. She poked my cheek with one chubby finger, her eyes wide, then screeched with laughter and ran away.

We gathered more of a crowd, I noticed, from the increasing volume of voices surrounding us. He walked us past numerous horses and people, all of their eyes upon us. I heard low canine growling, a dog reacting to the upset of his master.

 _Looks like I'm the main attraction._

"Takue cha choka-gli?"

My rescuer stopped in his tracks at the voice of what must have been an older woman, laced with outrage.

"Hei cha wayazan, hei-"

She interrupted him with a long string of harsh words, and I heard her spit on the ground, an action which was followed by many of our spectators. He gently slid me off his shoulder, placing me firmly on my feet, keeping a hand on my shoulder for stability. I wobbled as I adjusted to being right-side up again, my eyes hurrying to focus on the shapes before us.

We were surrounded by men and women of all ages who looked like my rescuer, all coppery caramel skin and severe expressions. They were dressed like him as well, with uniquely adorned deer skin attire for each of them. Some of the older folk has fur parkas around their shoulders.

They were Native Americans. He brought me to an actual Native American village.

 _I didn't know any of them still lived this traditionally._

There were round-top huts of mud and sticks, expertly crafted for sturdiness and warmth, placed all around the village. Women and small children poked their heads out of many of them, curious about the commotion we were causing. There were half-tanned animal skins outside many of the huts, set out to dry on wooden racks in the nearly waned sunlight. In the center of all of the huts, there sat a large wooden building with few windows and one large door, a large fire pit situated outside it. Another smaller wooden building, rounded like the huts, had been built beside it. Smoke rose from a hole in the ceiling of that building, and I found I wanted very much to see past the deer-skin flaps covering the doorway.

My companion turned his severe gaze from the older woman to everyone crowding around us, and began gesturing to me, speaking loudly and firmly. They regarded me warily, as if I were some kind of dangerous creature they weren't sure of yet. Some shook their heads, some looked like they wanted to toss me onto the fire pit, and light it.

The older woman began berating my rescuer again, only to be interrupted. A stout man emerged from the wooden building with the smoke rising from it, striding towards us. He was dressed slightly different from everyone else in the village, with beads and feathers adorning his dark hair, lined with a few silver streaks here and there. Intricately crafted bone earrings hung from his earlobes, and he wore an expression of assured authority.

 _Well, I think it's safe to say he's in charge…_

I looked up at my rescuer to see that his teeth were clenched tightly, his square jaw working nervously.

I stepped closer to him.

The Chief planted himself in front of us, his austere gaze sweeping back and forth between him and me. He didn't look pleased to see me.

"Kuruk," he said sharply, addressing my rescuer, "Okanihiya."

Kuruk, as I supposed he was called, swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He began speaking calmly, glancing at me every so often. The Chief asked a question, his voice low and dangerous to which Kuruk replied, vehemently disagreeing with whatever he'd said, it seemed. I made sure to follow Kuruk's previous advice, and remained completely silent. I didn't know what was happening or why my presence was such a disturbance, but I had the distinct feeling if I opened my mouth, it wouldn't be helped.

At last, when I was sure I would collapse from standing so long, the Chief nodded begrudgingly, and snapped his fingers, turning away to return to the smoke hut.

Two women stepped forward from the crowd, and after a brief hesitation, they each took one of my hands, tugging at me. I stumbled after them, craning my neck to look behind me, at Kuruk.

"Wait, Kuruk, what's happening?" I said, letting out a groan of frustration when I remembered no one spoke English here, "Kuruk, qu'est-ce que, um… comment ca va!"

He watched me with little expression upon his face, fiddling with his knife again. The women jerked me forward, causing me to fall to my knees. One of them muttered something to the other, and they each put an arm around their shoulders, effectively supporting most of my weight. I was led into one of the huts, through a deer skin flap, where two small children sat, a boy and a girl, playing with wooden sculpted toys.

The women roughly sat me down on the opposite end of the hut, one starting a fire in the fire pit situated in the center of it, while the other left through the door we'd just entered by. She returned shortly with a large jug, from which the sound of water sloshing about came. My throat flared in thirst, and when she held it out to me, I took it quickly in my shaking hands. I began chugging the water, struggling not to choke on it in my haste. One of the women, the one with two braids, exclaimed something, snatching the jug away from me, shaking her head.

I could feel the water cooling my heated, empty stomach. It was so pleasant, I let out a groan of relief. Two-braids opened a wooden box on the floor, taking out what seemed to be a dried meat of some kind. She handed it to me, watching me greedily dispose of it in less than thirty seconds. One-Braid, the younger of the two women, said something to me, her eyebrows raised. I stared at her blankly, and she let out a sigh, gesturing to her clothing, then pointing to mine.

Again, I stared at her blankly.

Frowning, she made her way over to the shelf, next to where the children sat, picking up a folded cloth. She dipped it in the jug of water, dabbed it in some kind of powder, rubbed it about in her hands, and then Two-Braids began tugging at my clothing.

Fascinated with the zipper of my jacket, she poked it, prodded it, her mouth set in captivation. Then she seemed confused, lifting my arms, patting me down, as if looking for something. She snapped the straps of my sports bra under my jacket, her eyes widening. I blushed a bit, finally understanding. They wanted to wash me.

I took a deep breath, unzipping my jacket, to which both of them reacted as if shocked. They glanced at each other, murmuring in their language, eyeing me cautiously. I continued stripping myself of clothing, placing it in a heap at my feet. I kept my bra and underwear on, folding my shaky arms across my torso.

One-Braid nodded at my chest, speaking encouragingly. I shook my head, but she was persistent, speaking louder, gesturing to me, so I gave in and stripped completely, covering my breasts with my arms. Goosebumps rose on my skin, and if it weren't for the fire they'd made, I'd have passed out for sure.

Two-Braids crouched in front of me, picking up my sports bra. She stretched it between her two hands, turning to speak excitedly to One-Braid, who nodded before approaching me. The cloth in her hand glided over my skin, scrubbing dirt and sweat off wherever it went. The powder she'd dabbed it in was a pleasant, woodsy scent that admittedly smelled ten times better than I did before. Neither of them seemed disturbed by my nakedness, but I for one was. I let out a squeal of shock when she wrenched my arms from my chest, the cloth invading that private expanse of skin.

 _Talk about no perception of personal space… I just hope someone around here knows how to get back to a town, or something._

Two-Braids examined my hiking boots with interest, turning them this way and that. I wondered if they'd ever seen clothing like mine before, from the way they treated it all. It seemed strange to me that Native Americans in a North Carolina National Park were so isolated.

 _I didn't even know there was a reservation here…_

When One-Braid got to my legs, she paused, running her hand over the skin of my calf, feeling the stubble from when I'd shaved four days before rasp her fingers. She seemed half disgusted and half charmed, exclaiming something to Two-Braids, who crouched next to her, examining my leg.

"Um…" I said, clearing my throat, feeling the need to speak in order to dispel my discomfort, "Sorry, I haven't shaved recently."

They looked up at me briefly, then One-Braid continued her work, moving on to plucking the twigs out of my hair. Tears pricked at eyes, from the sharp pain of the twigs being ripped from my hair. She didn't bother with being gentle. Her focus was more on efficiency, it seemed.

That's when she noticed the cut on my hand, murmuring to Two-Braids, who snatched a pot off the shelf and brought it to her companion. One-Braid stuck two fingers in the small container, and slapped the oily residue onto my cut.

It stung, and I hissed in pain, trying to jerk my hand away from her. She spoke harshly, roughly smacking the top of my head, which got her immediate results. I stopped struggling in surprise, feeling like a small dog who had misbehaved. Frowning, she rubbed the oil into the cut, ignoring my sharp intakes of breath before continuing in her methodical quest to clean every inch of me.

 _Just remember, Evy, there are worse things... You could be dead!_

One-Braid chose that moment to get super up close and personal, and I clenched my legs together, heated blood pooling in my face. This earned me another smack to the head, and I began to wonder whether death was the worst of these two options...

* * *

After both women were satisfied that I was entirely clean and sufficiently fed and watered, they had clothed me in a deerskin tunic, with loose leggings of the same material. I felt strange with no bra on, nor underwear, but I expressed my gratefulness for the clean clothes. They laid me down onto what I thought was perhaps a large wolf skin, the fur a bit coarser than I'd expected. It was unimaginably comfortable after being on my feet for practically two days. They did the same with the children, and One-Braid slept with them. Two-Braids, however, stayed wakeful, sitting close to the fire, weaving some kind of basket, one eye on me and one on her work.

I stared up at the sturdy wooden log rafters holding the rounded ceiling of the hut up. The firelight danced on it, while my mind wandered, and I thought back to when things had been normal. Not two days ago, but to a month ago, when everything was perfectly fine.

Ashley was alive still, I wasn't completely and hopelessly lost in Pisgah National Forest, my dearest friends in the whole world weren't in mourning, and everything was right in my life…

 _Ash… You'd be thrilled at being so lost. Adrenaline junkie._

Grief, I decided, was like the tides of the ocean. Sometimes it would recede, and your mind would be free, your heart chugging along without a care in the world. But, during high tide, it was impossible to swim to the surface, your heart screaming for mercy, and your mind would be consumed by it. Often, I found myself thinking about her, my crazy, lovable, partner in crime. Sometimes I would cry for the happy times, and how I missed them so dearly. Sometimes I would cry for the times we would never get to make, their absence weighing heavy in my chest, and sometimes I would cry because all I could think of was how awful her last few moments must have been... How lonely and worthless she must have thought herself to be, and with such surety.

If _only I could go back, let you know how much you meant to me, to everyone in your entire life, maybe I could have changed things. If I'd known…_

Tears lazily welled up to obscure my view of the dancing light, sitting idly on the cusp of my eyes. I knew if I didn't wrench myself away from this train of thought, I'd be bawling in no time.

 _Wouldn't want to wake the kiddies..._

I quickly wiped the moisture form my eyes, rolling onto my side to stare into the flames themselves. My thoughts turned instead back to when I'd touched those stones, and I was reminded of the sensation, my skin both frozen and burning in the same instant. Those terrifying, ancient stones. It was nearly painful to remember what had happened, exactly. It was impossible to comprehend.

 _One moment, I was tracing an ancient rune, the next I was waking up on the ground. And after the earthquake, everything was different. The old tree, the bridge, even the air seemed different…_

 _I must admit, it doesn't make much sense. An earthquake, popping up randomly in North Carolina?_

As if my brain were revolting against these frightening thoughts, my eyelids suddenly became impossibly heavy, my vision dimming. The last thing I knew before my exhausted body drifted me into sleep was a familiar man's voice, conversing quietly with Two-Braids. I caught only snippets of their conversation, and even less for their strange language.

"…iyotanya… Wahwala Zuzeca…"

* * *

The next morning, I awoke before it was completely light out. I no longer felt nauseous, nor was I shaking with exhaustion. I felt great in fact. At least, comparatively to yesterday.

I sat up, finding myself to be the only occupant of the hut.

 _Where is everyone?_

Groaning as I stretched my slightly sore limbs, I got to my feet, pushing the deer skin flap aside, and poking my head out. The sunshine was bright compared to the windowless hut, making me squint. The air was crisp, and I wish I had one of those fur parkas I saw some people wearing the day before.

"Wahwala Zuzeca, ayanyapa. Bon matin." I hear to my left.

 _Bon matin. Good morning._

It was Kuruk, sitting on the ground outside the hut, sharpening his knife on a whetstone. He paused to hand me a bowl full of green plants, beans, and what looked to me to be the cooked leg of a rabbit.

"Bon matin," I replied, sitting next to him and digging in, "Karuk, oui?"

"Oui," he said softly, nodding his head, keeping his focus on his work.

He seemed tired, dark circles under his brown eyes, and it occurred to me that he had been sitting here all night. I recalled the expressions on some of the villagers' faces yesterday. Some were so viciously bitter, their gazes almost predatory while looking at me. Even One-Braid and Two-Braids, who washed me and fed me, seemed to be holding a churning kind of resentment towards me.

I had a sneaking suspicion that I had him to thank for my peaceful night's sleep.

"Merci, Karuk," I paused, searching my mind for enough French words to properly thank him, and promptly giving up, "Thank you, for saving my life. I would've been dead by now if it weren't for you."

He lifted his gaze from the knife to my eyes, seeming to understand my meaning, though the words he could not comprehend. We sat in amiable silence for a while, as I finished my breakfast.

"Qu'est ce que c'est... Wahwala Zuzeca?" I asked, setting the bowl down in front of me on the cool grass. He kept saying that phrase, Wahwala Zuzeca.

 _It must mean something important in his language._

He smiled for the first time I'd been with him, his teeth rather straight and white, his dark eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Joli petit serpent."

"Pretty little snake?" I say, a peal of laughter escaping my grinning mouth, and Karuk's smile widened at the sound. I recalled the feeling of being watched that night, thinking it was just the snake's presence. Apparently I'd had another visitor to my fire, one much more well hidden.

"Ils ne vous tueront pas, Wahwala Zuzeca," he said, his smile fading slowly until he was frowning again, as seemed to be his resting facial expression. My own smile disappeared much quicker, my heart skipping a beat.

 _Wait, what? They won't... kill me?_

 _I didn't know that was even an option._

"Pourquoi est-ce qu'ils... me tueront?" I said, looking at him with eyes that betrayed my shock, tumbling my way over the French words as I attempted to say them correctly.

 _Why would they kill me?_

He gave me a brief look of what seemed like disbelief, then fixed his eyes on the ground, continuing to sharpen his knife.

"L'homme blanc. Votre gens. Ils sont la mort pour nous. Ils chercent la justice."

 _The white man. Your people. They are death for us. We only seek justice._

Ancestral guilt gnawed at my heart. I supposed he wasn't wrong, but I didn't know they still harbored such strong feelings about the whole complete and utter betrayal thing; with the stealing of their land, and the killing of their women and children with reckless abandon, and the spreading of deadly diseases...

 _I suppose those kinds of scars run deeper than I thought... Something time can't really erase._

 _Still, it's not like I did it! I don't deserve to die for what my ancestors did, hundreds of years ago!_

"Mais... je suis innocent!" I say, wanting to defend myself further, but not knowing the words to do so. He nodded, his face hardening despite his agreement. I briefly wondered if something might have happened more recently, before realizing that was ridiculous. White people didn't just attack reservations in this day and age, it would have been all over the news. I clear my throat, wracking my brain for a much-needed change in subject.

"Comment est-ce que vous avez... apprendre Francais?" I said, genuinely curious about his fluency in the language. His French was very fluid and perfectly accented, almost like the native French speakers from the movies we'd watch in French class. How did French get to a reservation in the middle of North Carolina?

"The traders, they speak French, and they taught me, many years ago," he said in French, getting to his feet all of the sudden, holding a hand out to me when I didn't move to follow, still processing his words. I was a bit rusty, after three years of not speaking it.

 _What are the French doing in North Carolina still?_

I remembered reading about the French fur traders in class, dealing with Native Americans back in the day. I didn't realize it was still a commercial relationship, French traders and Natives. I thought that had ended sometime after the early 1800's.

 _How positively... nostalgic._

I put my hand in his and allowed him to pull me up to my feet, automatically following him when he began walking away from the hut. He seemed to be my only friend in this whole village, and if the dirty looks we were getting from practically everyone we passed were anything to go by, that notion was more correct than I knew.

One man spat at my feet, which I barely managed to move in time to evade. I gave him a look halfway between confused and furious, and he held my gaze with a stone-cold hatred that gave me shivers down my spine.

 _The sooner I get out of here the better..._

"Est-ce que..." I paused, trying to think of a way to ask what I needed to ask.

 _Can someone help me find my way home?_

"Je voudrais... aller... Je dois retourner." I said finally, my speech broken and unsure, but he nods knowingly.

"There will be traders, who will arrive in six days. They will buy you, and they will help you.." He said, and I turned the words over in my mind slowly. I must have misunderstood.

 _Buy me?!_

"Ils me acheteront?" I repeated his French, and when he nodded, ignoring the incredulity in my voice, I shook my head, "No way, you can't do that."

"Ils sont hommes bien."

"I don't care if you think they're good men, good men don't find themselves in the habit of buying other human beings." I said, my anger throwing all knowledge of French out the window. Kuruk turned to me quicker than I could have expected, causing me to stumble back a step. His strong jaw was clenched.

"Les gen vous tueraient si vous n'etes pas utile. Les commercants vous acheteront, et les gen seront content. Comprenez?" He said quickly and quietly, one hand around my arm, the other clenched at his side.

 _My people will kill you if you are not useful. The traders will buy you, and the people will be content._

I pursed my lips, clenching my teeth against the English retort on the tip of my tongue, knowing it would do me no good. If I had realized I'd be risking my life anyway by coming with him, I might have just taken my chances with wandering the forest in a dehydrated daze. Apparently, each option was just as safe as the other.

"Je voudrais partir. Les gen..." I let out an exasperated breath, jerking my arm from his grasp, "Your _people_ can't keep me here, and they can't threaten me, like some kind of prisoner! That is so many kinds of illegal!"

 _He saved me from death by starvation just so he could sell me to some French hillbillies. Buy low, sell high, indeed._

 _And here I was thinking he was a friend. What a fucking joke._

"Vous etiez mourant... Je n'ai pas d'autre choix." Kuruk must have seen the betrayal in my eyes, behind the outrage, since he had the decency to look at least a bit remorseful. My eyes shifted from his to the opening in the wooden wall surrounding the village, several yards behind him.

 _While, yes, I was dying... you had no other choice, huh? Well I have a few choices to make, myself._

He followed me gaze, shaking his head, a warning in his eyes.

"They will kill you," he said, his French becoming oddly accented, the force with which he said it bringing his native tongue's flair for harsh syllables, "You will bring a good trade, but cause trouble, and your worth will mean nothing."

"Why?" I whispered, giving up on the idea of running away. I had no clue where to go anyway. Kuruk hesitated, a shadow passing behind his eyes, and I recognized it suddenly. It was a wave of grief, gone as quickly as it came... The same grief I felt every day.

 _Someone he loved has died... recently, too._

"Your people came to us, speaking of trade and friendship, but bringing with them betrayal and death. They killed many of us, for what true reason, we do not know," he hesitated, as if unsure whether to divulge more information. Apparently deciding against it, his chin jerked up, against the emotion that threatened to show in his face. My throat tightened, and I had the urge to reach for his hand to comfort him.

 _Even if he had planned to get all human trafficky on me... He did save my life, and he has been kind to me when he really had no incentive to._

"I am very sorry... but how can that be?" I asked, my French even slower than usual while my mind raced.

 _Maybe white people did go around attacking reservations... But how did no one know? How did this happen, with no media coverage, and no police intervention? I get that they're isolated, but... That would be ridiculous._

 _"_ I do not pretend to know what drives the hatred of the white man," he replied, venom in his voice, "Follow me."

I obeyed mechanically, sill in a bit of a daze. Was I really so uninformed that I didn't know about race wars going on right here in the state I'd lived in for three years?

Kuruk led me to the larger of the huts, pausing outside the entrance, prompting me to peek inside. There were a group of women and young girls inside, sitting cross-legged in a circle, vocalizing and humming a tune. They had long strings of what looked like a roughly hewn twine, weaving with quick and adept hands.

"You will work here each day until the traders come. Ma-kawee will show you what to do. Do you remember where the wokheya was?" he said, and for a moment I was confused, thinking I was simply misunderstanding a French word, until I inferred what he meant. The hut, where I slept last night.

"Yes." I said, and he nodded, giving me an encouraging little push into the weaving hut.

"Good. Come back when Ma-kawee says you are finished, Wahwala Zuzeca."

He backed away, raising his eyebrows and nodding towards the weaving hut's door when I just stood there, feet planted. Sudden anxiety kept me from moving. The harshness of the Native Americans towards me made me loathe to leave Kuruk's side. He was the only one who did not look upon me with some degree of hatred. What if I didn't learn quick enough and they decided to kill me?

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the dimly lit hut, and their vocalizing petered off as each one noticed my presence, my intrusion.

"Hau," I said, as I had once seen a Native American say as a greeting in a movie, waving my hand awkwardly. The older women did not find it funny, but the young girls chuckled, murmuring to each other. My cheeks flared red.

"Ahi, wasicu," said the eldest of the women, sitting at the back of the hut. The girls giggled at whatever she had said. When I made no move to respond, not knowing how or what to do, she jerked her head in a clear gesture. _Come here._

I scurried to obey her, kneeling next to her, acutely aware of each pair of eyes upon me. The younger ones were simply curious, but the women held that now familiar, blaming look in their eyes.

The elderly lady handed me several strips of the rough string, pointing to her eyes and then to her own woven braid of rope.

 _Watch me._

So I did. Her eyes were kind and wise, her hair whiter than fresh snow. The skin of her hands and face were worn with years of hard work in the sun, but she moved as quickly and as surely as her younger counterparts, if not more so. I began to copy her movements, a complicated five stranded braid that I had to undo a few times, but she was patient with me.

After a while, they seemed to forget my presence, and began singing again, the spirit and soul in their voices sending chills down my spine.

It sounded like days past to me.


	4. A Shadow In the Night

**A/N**

 **Hello my lovelies! Sorry it's been a while, I have been getting my butt kicked in school lately. Get this. I worked on ONE excel document for chemistry for a total of 21 hours. How is that even okay?**

 **Anyways, on a much happier note, I'd like to give a very special shout out to echo55! HaPPy BiRtHdAy to YOU! This chapter kicked my butt, but I worked late, threw down an outline for the whole story, and trucked through for ya! I hope you like it! :D**

 **I also hope all my other lovelies like it too! I also hope, as I do every day, that you all are having/have had a delightful day. Keep on being amazing human beings!**

 **As always, lots of love,**

 **-A.**

* * *

For the next four days, I found myself thrown into the daily rhythm of the village. I also found that while the work was difficult, I learned quickly, and even quite enjoyed it at times. I particularly loved to weave with the other women. Together we made many things, baskets for carrying food, supplies, and even babies. I learned to make several different kinds of rope, even a special kind made of dyed horse hair, which is what we made the baby slings from. Many of the women would need them, as several were pregnant themselves. The women had apparently decided that hating me was a waste of their valuable energy and effort, and had even encouraged me to sing with them today. I learned a few songs, but never their meanings.

One young girl, called Naira, daughter of a sweet woman around my age, had taken a liking to me. No more than six years old, she had wide, kind, light brown eyes that reminded me of the color of autumn leaves. Her arms and legs were slight and thin, and I knew she would grow up to be a petite, willowy woman, but her personality was gigantic. She liked to sit on my lap, the tiny thing she was, while we all weaved. For being so small, her voice lifted high above everyone's, beautiful and distinct as a mockingbird's.

She enjoyed following me around after we had finished weaving what the village needed for the day. She would babble at me, knowing I couldn't understand her, and not caring in the slightest. We had a game, Naira and I. She would call my name, Wahwala Zuzeca, and I would have to make the silliest face I could manage. It started when she had asked me a question, and of course having no way to answer or understand, I simply made a face, sticking my tongue out. She had shrieked with laughter, and the game had been born. Sometimes, though, there were jobs that Naira would not be allowed to tag along for.

The other things that Ma-kawee had me do were dirtier jobs, such as making the dyes, sorting out beans for winter storage, and working the smoke house. The smoke house was by far my least favorite job of all, as it was under the supervision of one of the men, Matwau.

Matwau did not enjoy my presence, even as I did not enjoy his.

He was a stout man, built like a bear. Stout and muscular, he was more solid than the very ground he walked on. The sharp planes of his face betrayed his hatred for me, each time he saw Ma-kawee bring me his way.

Each time Ma-kawee led me to the smokehouse hut, dread pooled in my stomach. I could feel the blood lust in his stare, watching me, his black eyes following me as I worked. His job was to make sure the meat did not overcook, or undercook. Mine was to cut the slabs of deer meat, or fish, into strips, dab them in a powder made of dried berries and herbs, and hang them on the tiers of wooden racks above the low simmering flame.

It was hot work, and sometimes I needed to step outside to cough the smoke from my lungs. Matwau seemed to be used to it, for he looked upon me with disgust each time I stopped working to take a breather. He seemed particularly full of hate today.

"Uncikpani wasicu wahtesni," he growled at me as I made for the hut exit, clearing my throat. When I ignored him, reaching for the deer-skin flap, it seemed to ignite the rage bubbling near the surface of his dark eyes. His large hand wrapped around my arm, yanking me back into the hut, and I let out a yelp of surprise. I squared myself up, hands balled at my side, my eyes meeting his levelly.

"Wowasi echun!" he bellowed, gesturing sharply to the meat still uncured and uncut in the basket at my feet, and I flinched despite myself.

I had allowed myself to feel almost accepted in the past few days, working with the women in the village. I had begun to think myself safe here, with Ma-kawee and Naira as my unlikely friends, and Kuruk looking after me each evening. I remembered though, a sour taste in my mouth, that these people tolerated me at best. It hit me, looking at this man, his bronze skin flushed with rage, that I had fooled myself.

 _I will be hated here no matter what I do._

I clenched my teeth, jutting my chin out in defiance, and again made my way over to the deer-flap exit. I'd barely got in one breath of fresh, crisp air before I felt his arms around my torso. I kicked my legs, trying to thrash out of his grip.

"Get off of me!" I screamed, but he lifted me effortlessly, thick arms crushing my torso, and tossed me back into the hut, where I landed roughly on the dirt floor. Our eyes both darted to the uncured meat in the basket, seeing the dirt sprayed all over it from the impact. When I met his gaze again, his bronze skin was flushed with fury.

He spewed a long string of venomous words, and I was grateful for my ignorance of the language, but when he started towards me, fists clenched, I quickly reconsidered.

"Stay away, I didn't do anything wrong!" I spat, trying to infuse strength into my words, but they did little to deter him. My limbs scrambled about, trying to get to my feet before he reached me. I knew I was in for a fight. His bear-like paw gripped my wrist so tight I thought it would snap, meaning to bring me to my knees. I managed to get in one good sucker punch with my free hand, my fist connecting to his solid jaw with a satisfying _thwap_.

His nostrils flared, and he wrenched my arm upwards, pain erupting in the joint of my elbow.

 _Okay, I'm not supposed to bend that way!_

I let out a cry of agony, falling to my knees to change the angle and relieve the pressure he was putting on my arm. I knew he wouldn't hesitate to snap it like a twig. Watwau screamed at me, and when I didn't respond, his fist tore a reply from between my clenched teeth. The bone of my right eye socket throbbed painfully, my vision dotted with black on that side.

He knelt, hissing something in my ear in his lilting language before wrenching my face to the ground next to the fire pit. I felt his foot nestled perfectly between my shoulder blades and next thing I knew, heat swept over my hand.

 _He's… burning me!_

I thrashed and struggled, screaming wordlessly at the top of my lungs, a sound I didn't even know I could make. The pain was immeasurable and seemed to last for an immeasurable amount of time, the low flames blue and hot. I was sure my hand was going to be nothing but a blackened stump when he finally decided to release me.

 _If he decided to release me._

 _Maybe he'll kill me._

I thrashed harder, trying to buck his foot off of my back, without much luck, until suddenly it was gone. I jerked upright to my knees, cradling my hand to my chest, afraid to look at it. Tears blurred my vision, but I could see the tall form of Kuruk, standing over Matwau, who was now on the floor on the other end of the hut.

Matwau pointed at me, speaking quickly in his anger, but Kuruk cut him off with an equally furious retort. The deep timbre of his voice held threats, low and dangerous to Matwau's loud and clumsy. He knelt to help me to my feet, careful to not jostle my hand too badly.

I wanted more than anything to spit on Matwau as we passed, knowing the meaning to his people by this point. It meant complete and utter rejection, hatred for every fiber of their being.

I knew Kuruk would have to kill Matwau to protect me if I did though, so I merely glared at him through a quickly swelling eye as Kuruk walked me out of the hut. He walked quickly, ignoring the small crowd that had gathered outside. Naira and some other children were there, curious as ever. I heard her little voice call my name, laced with confusion.

 _There was no way she could understand something like that. Not yet._

 _Maybe not ever._

I threw a silly face at her over my shoulder, ignoring the pain in the right side of my face.

She didn't laugh this time.

* * *

My eye was swelling so badly that I could barely see out of it, but Kuruk knew enough to know that my hand was top priority. He had rushed me to his hut, and was smearing a foul smelling poultice on it, quite carefully. His fingers were surprisingly gentle for someone so large. It was still unimaginably painful despite his thoughtfulness. I flinched under his touch, and he hesitated, frowning deeply.

"What happened?" he said in French, but I kept my mouth shut, lips pressed tightly together. My hand felt like huge needles were being jabbed into it, and I feared that if I opened my mouth, I would only begin to cry.

His brow furrowed when I remained silent, and he continued tending to my hand. Once it was sufficiently slathered in the bitter stuff, he carefully covered my eye in it as well, and placed the bowl of it on his shelf, wiping his hands on his deerskin pants. Then, he began rummaging around in a large wooden chest next to his bed furs. He pulled out a beautifully woven tapestry, holding it in his hands for a few moments, his eyes tracing the patterns almost longingly, before tossing it over my shoulders.

 _Not a tapestry. A blanket._

From my hours making dyes, the red dye that colored it had been made from a root that, when crushed, oozed a red substance, the color and consistency of blood. Hours had gone into making this, weaving it on something like the primitive loom I had seen in Ma-kawee's home. It was a bit scratchy and worn with use, but clean and warm. It felt nice to have a layer between me and the outside world.

Kuruk threw a quartered log on the fire, stoking it before setting a bowl of beans, corn, and dried meat next to me. He sat opposite me, digging in to his own bowl of food.

I found I had no appetite.

I stared, instead, at the flames, shielding my hand from the warmth. Any fluctuation in temperature hurt.

"Wahwala Zuzeca."

I lifted my gaze to his. I hadn't realized so much time had passed, for he'd finished his meal, and had enough time to carve a little figurine out of a stick. He twiddled it back and forth over his fingers. It looked like an S.

"He was angry," I said simply, and he let out a humorless harrumph, whittling away at the wood again.

"Apparently."

"Why are you doing this?" I said, my voice a flat monotone.

"Doing what?" He said, quirking one thick brow, his eyes never leaving his little figurine. I found that habit annoyed me immensely at the moment, the habit of speaking to me whilst simultaneously pretending I was non-existent.

"Look at me!" I said, a bit louder than I'd meant. He paused, knife still on the curvy little figurine, before placing them both on the ground before him and folding his hands in his lap. He met my heated gaze with his own, calm and cool.

After the abuse I'd experienced today, his kindness was like nails on the proverbial chalkboard, akin to the woolen fabric of the blanket on my wounded hand. I was infuriated by the gentleness in his eyes, because I did not understand it. Everyone else in the village seemed to know where I stood except him.

"Why are you doing this?" I repeated, gesturing to the bowl of food, my eye, "Why are you so kind to me?"

He watched me carefully, searching my one good eye for something. What, I could not tell. But he seemed to find what he was looking for, because he nodded, adjusting himself to sit more comfortably.

"My woman was _gleglega_ , from the hot sands in the west..." he began, taking a deep breath, his eyes a million miles away, "She was dark and unique and full of love for the world and the spirits. She was gentle."

He picked up a stick, hanging over the fire, just out of reach of the twirling orange fingers.

"Her father was _wahtani_ , a traitor to the spirits. Her mother took her and her brother far away from their home, to live here. We took care of them, and when the spirits joined us together, we could not have been happier."

He plunged the stick down into the hottest depths of the fire, watching it catch, and his mouth twitched ever so slightly.

"She did not deserve to die. She pursued only happiness, and the happiness of others. Her laughter was the most beautiful thing, because it was so happy... I could not believe that even such reckless hatred would take her away from me. In anger, I asked the spirits many times why they allowed such light to be taken by such darkness."

Staying silent for several moments, he finally met my gaze.

"When I saw you spare the snake that night, I knew you were like her. You did not deserve to die, and I will not allow reckless hatred to take you like it took her."

 _So, he lost his wife in the fight with the men who attacked them... Even in the face of such evil, and such sadness, he won't allow it to change him. That takes absolute, unwavering strength, and a pure heart._

My gaze dropped into my lap, my throat tight. Tears blurred my vision, stinging my swollen eye. I hastily wiped them away, clearing my throat before I looked up.

"Kuruk," I said, "I wish I could repay you, for everything. For your kindness, for your loss."

He smiled, such a rarity that I tried to commit it to memory at that moment.

"I know, Wahwala Zuzeca… Now, will you eat, and tell me what happened?"

I had forgotten the abandoned food he had made for me, and having been relaxed from his story-telling, my stomach had reversed its earlier boycott of food. I reached for it and began slowly popping the beans into my mouth, explaining in between bites.

When I'd finished, he frowned pensively.

"Matwau's entire family was killed the day your people came. In his eyes, he has nothing to live for… It is no excuse." Kuruk said, and my heart sunk a bit. I momentarily felt remorse for Matwau, almost forgave him.

Then I remembered his fist on my face.

"He should be arrested." I mumbled in English, although I knew the moment I got to civilization, I would be too grateful to remember to call the police on Matwau.

 _Would they even bother coming way out here to arrest one man for assault?_

A comfortable, kindred silence passed between us while I finished my meal. I took the time to wonder what it would be like when I finally got home.

 _The stories I'll have to tell!_

 _No doubt they've found the Hulk by now, dragged into the woods somewhere near the circle… Wondering what has happened to its owner. I wonder if they'll think I was eaten. Perhaps they'll think I fell off the cliff._

 _My poor mom and dad, worried sick, unable to sleep._

 _And Maddie. She will have locked herself away in her room, crying but stubbornly not wanting anyone to see. Perhaps she'll let her mom comfort her, if she's worried enough, if she's having nightmares like she did with Ash._

I had nightmares as well, in the weeks after Ash died.

It's a horrible business, losing someone you love, and not knowing exactly how or why you lost them. I would have nightmares of her, taking pills while crying, staring at herself in the mirror with a desperate kind of pleading in her eyes, wishing she didn't have to do it. Or on truly horrific occasion, of her hanging, her black sparkly Chucks bumping the wall by her door, her mouth open limp in a wordless scream.

I cringed, my entire body curling inward on itself a bit, hoping Maddie would not have nightmares of me. Hoping she would not have to.

"You can sleep here tonight, if you want." Kuruk said, his voice soft. He must have mistaken my shudder of horror for a shiver of chill, because he was getting more furs from the blanket chest. He handed me a few, and I nodded, making my way over to the large bed of furs.

There was more than enough room for six people on the bed, but I took a small sliver on the far left edge, covering myself with the furs, my skin in turn covering itself with goosebumps of pleasure at the sudden warmth. I placed my burnt hand gingerly on top of my chest, above the furs.

I would sleep well tonight, despite everything. Despite my injuries. Despite the stranger... No- the friend, laying on the other end of the fur bed. I glanced over at him, to see that he was curled on his side, facing away from me. His large form looked somehow childlike, hunched inward like that. I let out a breath, my muscles relaxing, and closed my eyes.

* * *

 _"You're crazy, Evy."_

 _"Oh, c'mon! You're supposed to be the brave one," I shout, grinning over my shoulder at Ash. She's hesitating at the entrance to the cave, biting her lip. Her blue eyes trace the edges of it, looking as if it's the mouth of some living creature instead of a rock formation. With her blonde hair braided on the sides, she looks like a Viking princess, ready to face the world. She already has a smear of dirt slathered upon the pale skin of her brow, not ten minutes into the hike._

 _"You know I don't like small spaces very much."_

 _"Yeah, but you like adventure, don't you?" I goad, and she lets out a loud sigh, finally following in my footsteps. She makes her way down the small embankment, so I continue on, my breath misting in the cool air of the cave. Shadows dance on the brown and moss covered cave walls, created by the flashlight I always carry on our hikes. I pick my way over rocks, slowly so Ash can catch up. A painting on the cave wall above us stops me, of two hands coming down from clouds, decorated with henna-like swirls. I briefly wonder how the hell they even got up there to paint it. There's an inscription next to them._

 _"Carry each other's burdens," I read out loud, and Ash comes to stand next to me. She stares at it for at least a minute straight, and I know she is probably looking at it from an artist's perspective._

 _"Whoever did this is really talented," she says, and I smile at the confirmation of my suspicions._

 _"Eh, I've seen better," I say, giving her a pointed look, and she scoffs at my compliment before surging ahead of me, blazing the trail. She always pretends to hate compliments on her art, but we both know she lives for it._

 _I stop so often, at every little oddity we find, a cave cricket, a deep pool of murky water, a patch of initials carved into the cave wall, capturing each moment in my memory. I stop so often, Ash gets huffy with me, but it's our rhythm. She's the hare, and I'm the tortoise. She rushes our adventures, I slow us down. It's just what we do._

 _It's a well-traveled cave, with helpful little spray paint arrows pointing us to the exit. We follow them, until I spot a small opening to my left. We could crawl on our hands and knees, and easily make it through._

 _"Ash…" I say, and when she turns to me, flashlight glaring into my eyes, I nod to the opening. She takes one look at it, blinks slowly, and then rolls her eyes._

 _"You're trying to kill me. You're honestly trying to kill me, aren't you?"_

* * *

I opened my eyes, the memory fresh in my mind. It ached like an old scar, itched like a phantom limb.

That day we had crawled through the opening, through the mud and water built up from the late winter rains, and come out through a tiny hole in someone's pasture. The cows had been very surprised to see us.

Ash had been so brave, not complaining once about the incredibly tight spaces we'd traversed. At one point, our backs were scraping the ceiling, even while army crawling.

 _I never told her how brave she'd been._

I let out a sigh, lifting myself up carefully, never once forgetting about my hand.

The first thing I noticed was that Kuruk was gone. He moved silently when he walked, so I wasn't surprised that he didn't wake me. I was surprised that he was nowhere to be found, though. He walked me to Ma-Kawee, every morning.

With my good hand, I grabbed one of the birch twigs he'd collected just yesterday, to chew on, as Ma-Kawee had taught me. It was their way of brushing their teeth, an explanation for their white and straight teeth, without any toothbrushes or Crest toothpaste to speak of. I gnawed on it, kneeling down to observe my reflection in the basin of still water he kept next to the door. It reflected a battered woman, one eye swollen, though no longer swollen shut, thanks to Kuruk's poultice. I was afraid to take the roughspun bandages from my hand. I had refused to look at it the night before, and I refused to look at it now. It still throbbed, though the poultice had numbed the pain a bit.

 _It'll be a surprise…_

My dark hair was a ratty bird's nest, my natural frizz greatly protesting against not having been properly washed or brushed in days. My face looked a bit gaunt, high cheekbones more pronounced, likely due to a combination of the hard work, and the new diet. The deerskin clothes revealed little more than my collarbones, hiding the slight curves of my body underneath. I'd grown to appreciate the clothes, and the freedom they allowed, despite my original clothes having mysteriously disappeared, intimates notwithstanding.

I turned my attention to finding Kuruk, or perhaps Ma-Kawee. I felt out of place, unsettlingly untethered, without instructions for the day's schedule. Immediately, I chartered a course for Ma-Kawee's hut. The village seemed to be in a bit of a tizzy, with people rummaging about their huts, milling about between buildings, muttering to each other of what I gathered to be something important.

"Wahwala Zuzeca!" I heard behind me, a familiar tiny voice. I grinned, distorting my face and sticking my tongue out before turning around. Naira's tiny body collided with mine in a violent hug, her arms barely making it all the way around my torso.

"Wofetoon hi ekta! Nin keta he?" She exclaimed, her little mouth forming a pink O in anticipation of my answer. Of course, I could only shrug and make a different silly face, but that was apparently taken as an affirmative answer to her question. She squealed in excitement, grabbing my hand and dragging me through the village. No one seemed to care what I did today, except Naira, so... I guess that made her my boss for the day.

She tugged me along until we reached her mother's hut, who heard her daughter's loud chattering and poked her head out through the deerskin flap. She eyed me stumbling along behind Naira, a slight smirk on her wide lips, before returning to her work inside the hut. Naira sat me down outside, then sprinted into the hut. I heard her speaking to her mother, and her mother sounding a bit exasperated, before she returned, a handful of wooden figures. Toys, carved from a soft, light colored wood. There were human figures, but most were animals. A bear, on its hind legs, a bird in flight, a trotting horse, and one more. Naira placed it in my good hand, explaining, I imagined, that since my name was Pretty Little Snake, I had to be the snake. I felt as though I had seen it before, and I turned it over in my hands. My fingers traced the etched scales, the notches that made up its mouth and eyes.

Then I remembered.

Kuruk had been carving last night, whittling away at what I thought had been the letter S. He had been carving Naira a snake to play with.

 _Now that I think of it, it was stupid to think it was an S. He doesn't even know the letter S. Why would he be carving an S?_

I played for a very long time with Naira, making my snake frantically scurry along in the dirt as she chased along with her bear, pretending to roar. Then, the eagle wanted to eat the snake, but the human girl saved the snake from certain doom. All manner of situations, most ending with the snake and the girl becoming friends somehow. Finally, Naira got hungry, bringing out a bowl of corn mixed with the biggest bean I have ever seen. Green, fat things, flattened and dried.

She placed the bowl between us, and kept playing, popping food in her mouth every so often. I ate a bit, finding I didn't quite like the chalky taste of the green beans. She seemed to love them though, sorting through the corn to find them. She saw me watching her, and placed one on her tongue, sticking it out at me. She pretended to chew it, then stuck it out at me again, still on her tongue. I reached towards her, as if to tickle her, and she squealed, flinching a bit before her bod completely froze. She made a strange gasping sound before looking at me with wide eyes.

Her throat convulsed, the bear toy dropping into her lap. She jerked her hands up to her throat, and my heart leaped into a gallop, panic rising in my chest.

"Naira," I said, scooting closer to her, dropping the wooden snake. Without another moment of delay, I opened her mouth, trying to see if the bean was in reach of a finger. Scooping it out was safer than anything else.

"Shit." I growled, standing her up and wrapping my arms around her tiny body, positioning my good hand as a fist on her diaphragm. I hesitated only a second before pressing my burnt hand over it, the splitting pain causing me to cry out a bit. I pushed hard several times, hard enough to lift her off her feet. Her mother came out, and promptly screamed bloody murder.

She ran over to me, trying to wrench her daughter out of my grasp.

 _Does she not know what the Heimlich maneuver is?!_

I paused just long enough to shove her mother away, and she tripped over her own feet, letting out a keening wail as she landed.

"You'll thank me later!" I shouted, when she started calling out, for help probably. People began rushing over, and the sense of urgency grew as Naira's face began to turn purple. I quickly continued my work, feeling the skin of my burnt hand split, warmth trickling down my palm, through the bandage. I couldn't help crying out myself, adding to the spectacle.

Finally, Naira spit up the bean, dragging air into her lungs, her face returning to a normal reddish color. The bean skipped across the ground, landing at her mother's feet, whose eyes were fixed upon, brow furrowed, understanding slowly welling up in her expression. Naira began whimpering, and I let her mother grab her arm, dragging her away from me. Others finally reached us, and several pairs of hands pushed me to my knees, the angry, foreign voices loud and frantic. I felt rope being tied around my wrists after several seconds of being roughed up, my hair pulled, my sore face smacked.

I didn't struggle much, knowing it would only make things worse, and more violent probably.

 _Let no good deed go unpunished, apparently._

 _Oh, language barrier, why must you punish me so?_

* * *

The moon was rather beautiful tonight.

Not even half-full, as it had been the night I'd awoken on my back, in a ring of dirt, being watched by gigantic stones. But still lovely enough to charm me into watching it.

 _Not like I have anything else to do..._

They had tied me up to the pole next to the fire pit, and left me there, forgotten, the rest of the day. So I couldn't attack any more helpless children, probably. My back ached from being upright all day, and my burnt hand now throbbed dully. I was more than a bit surprised, and saddened, that Kuruk hadn't come to help me yet. In fact, for being in the center of the village where I could see much of the village, I hadn't so much as glimpsed him. I thought perhaps he went hunting.

 _Or maybe he's just tired of saving your dumb ass from cultural misunderstandings on a daily basis._

I let out a sigh and hung my head, my breath coming out in a shiver. If someone didn't bring me something warm soon, I'd be a human popsicle by the time the sun rose. But no one seemed to remember I was even out here. They were all in their warm huts, fires burning low and warm. I had about 7 hours of this to go still.

I watched my breath rise up in the dim moonlight, a song coming to me suddenly, the lazy yet urgent desire to entertain myself becoming harder to ignore the colder I got. I needed a distraction. My shivering lips parted, and I watched one more breath ascend to the stars, focusing on the melody darting about in my brain. I sang low, and soft, barely louder than a whisper.

It was a song I had subconsciously dedicated to Ash, one that was simultaneously on my mind, and hovering over it, at all times.

"You taught me the courage of stars," I sang, breathless from the cold, "Before you left."

I hummed, following along the song wordlessly before I reached the end. A lingering melody, somehow melancholy and triumphant at the same time.

"How rare... and beautiful... it truly is..."

Tears blurred my vision, and I felt my heart twist around in its cage.

"That we exist."

I fell silent, staring at my knees blankly, my dark hair falling around my face, creating a veil separating me and the outside world. I was exhausted in every way a person can be exhausted. Physically, I was beaten down and bruised and in pain. Emotionally, I felt myself wishing I could give up, just sit here in the cold until darkness took me.

 _Maybe that's the only way I'm ever going to get home..._

Mentally, I went from being hated by mostly everyone here, to being hated by everyone in less than 5 minutes, and now I was completely alone.

"I just want to go home," I said in a whisper that sounded broken even to me.

"Where's home?"

I snapped my head up so fast I tweaked a muscle in my neck. The whisper, in English, had come from in front of me, but I didn't see anyone. It was difficult to see anything, in fact, the moon being just a sliver in the sky. The huts and the fence were all blended together in blacks and dark purples.

"Hello?" I breathed, my heart hammering, making me feel light-headed.

No answer.

 _Was I hallucinating? Am I that close to losing it?_

"And now I'm talking to myself."

Then, foot steps padded slowly to my right, and dimly, I saw a tall hunched figure, smoothly sneaking its way towards me. My heart began pounding, not knowing whether I should be relieved to see someone who spoke English, or concerned that they were sneaking around me.

"A shame. Thought you were speaking to me." The whisper continued, and I felt gentle, cold hands slide down my arm, searching for my own bound behind me to the pole. I jerked in surprise when they found them, their grip turning the throb in my hand to a sharp lightning bolt of pain.

"Are you hurt, lass?" The man whispered, as if shocked by the possibility. His voice was pleasantly deep and accented, though I couldn't tell exactly from where by so quiet a sample.

 _Scottish? Irish?_

"My hand." I said, deciding my swollen eye was less of an issue at the moment. He hummed in acknowledgement, careful to touch only the rope from then on. I heard the soft rasp of a knife on the rope, and then my arms sprung forward. My shoulders ached immeasurably, having been held back for more than twelve hours straight. I let out a soft gasp of relief at being able to move freely, and again, I felt the cold hands on me, helping me to my feet.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out of here. We have to be quick though, aye?" I felt his breath on my neck, sending goosebumps all down my spine.

"Aye," I said before thinking. He guided me away from the main path in the village, behind a hut. We paused for a moment, waiting to see if anyone heard us. When he decided the coast was clear, we made our way towards the fence-line, slowly and carefully. I didn't realize I was holding my breath, until someone came out of their hut, stretching, and made their way towards us.

He started towards the next hut without telling me, probably wanting to stay completely silent, and I scrambled to follow his lead. I scrambled so hard, in fact, that my foot caught on a hide tanner, sending animal skins flying in every direction, and the terribly loud sound of wood snapping caused me to squeak. My good hand slapped itself over my mouth, and I froze once I caught my balance.

 _I bet uh... no one heard that, right?_

"Get yourself going, lass!" He hissed at me, and there were Native murmurings, the person who'd come out for a bathroom break having spotted us. I must have awoken some of them from their slumber as well, for a few more deerskin flaps were opening every which way.

 _No way I'm getting tied up to that damned pole again._

I set off at a sprint, my good hand reaching for my mysterious friend, and like magnets, his found mine in the dark. We headed towards the fence, but I think he knew we were already done for, because he was jogging while I was running like a bat out of hell.

"C'mon!" I growled, yanking at his hand when he began to walk.

"We're had. Best not waste energy." He muttered, and glancing over my shoulder, I saw a growing group of people in the dim fire lights from open huts converging on us. He was right, of course. They could track, and hunt, and out run me any day. But I wasn't about to give up so easily.

"Fine!" I said, and whirled around, throwing myself into another headlong spring. I made it through the gate.

 _Maybe I can hide once I get far enough away._

I made it down the soft dirt path outside the village.

 _Yeah! I can hide, and cover my tracks with leaves, or something!_

I made it past the thick trees lining the village outskirts.

 _I'm really going to do this!_


	5. Red Sky

Strong, rough hands tossed me through the deerskin flap of a small hut, and I landed roughly, without my rope-bound hands to catch myself. I let out a pathetic groan, slowly rolling myself onto my back, if for no other reason than to get my face out of the smoky smelling dirt. It was pitch black in the hut, with no way for the moonlight to seep through the well sealed walls.

 _If I had just run a little faster..._

Adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, my heart pounding. My shoulder still ached sharply from being tackled at such a headlong gallop, and by a large muscular Indian man, no less.

"Welcome back," the same accented voice from earlier this very evening quipped, a bit too peppy for my taste. I exhaled patiently, clearing my throat, and attempting to sit myself up, and giving up, flopping down into the dirt.

"You do realize we are probably going to be severely punished for all this, right? Even killed?" I said grimly, staring at where I knew he sat in the darkness. He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat, and I heard it resonate in his chest. He was close, just above me. I figured he was similarly bound, hands behind his back, otherwise he might have tried to help me up.

"Och, it'll no be that extreme. I'd be stunned if we werena the both of us given twenty lashes, though." He said, as if it were funny.

 _Scottish. Definitely Scottish._

I remained silent, swallowing against the convulsing of my throat at the notion of more pain than I was already in.

"Dinna fash, I know these people. They'll trade with my brother-in-law for us. I'd boldly wager they'll be more than happy to be rid of us and call it a day. For the right price, that is!" He said confidently, and with such... spirit. His carefree attitude rubbed my nerves in quite the wrong direction.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, where you came from, or why you decided to play hero last night, but I don't think you quite grasp the shit-hole we've dug for ourselves here. Or at least me, I'm already on thin ice with these people, they were one tense moment away from executing me yesterday, and now... I'm completely, utterly fucked now."

I took a deep breath, realizing that getting angry was probably the last thing I should do. He was silent for a long while, until I cleared my throat and he made a small noise of acknowledgement, shifting about as if uncomfortable.

"Begging your pardon, it's just... Erm..."

"What?" I said, as patiently as possible.

"Nothing," he said after a rather long pause, and I thought he uttered a small, quiet laugh before sobering, "Did ye say they hurt you?"

"Yes."

He made a small, gruff noise in the back of his throat.

"I've never known the Cherokee to be a particularly violent people..."

"Yeah, well they weren't until they apparently had to be. They said some ignorant, racist, assholes attacked them recently, even killed some of them. They're just... I think they're just frightened, with no one to help them. People will do anything when they're afraid." I muttered, struggling to hoist myself up to a sitting position.

"Aye, I heard about that from MacMillan, just over a week past. Nasty business."

I nodded, the movement causing my strained neck to spasm a bit. Then I realized he couldn't even see me nodding, and stopped, grimacing.

"So, where do ye live, lass? Do ye... have any kin looking for ye?" He said softly, gently, as if he were afraid the question might trigger some horrid emotional response. I swallowed tightly, responding more to his kindness than the question itself. Besides Kuruk, my guardian and only friend these many lost days, I had been treated with mere tolerance, if not outright malice.

 _Oh how nice it is to be coddled just a bit._

I thought about my mother, my father... my brother, my best friend. They would all most certainly be looking for me, or they most certainly had tried. My brow furrowed at the thought that they might have called off the search, having been missing for more than what must be two weeks now.

"Well, my family lives in Ohio, but I live near Durham, here in North Carolina. They'll be looking for me, I'm sure of it." I said.

"Ohio Country, ye mean?... That's some ways away from here. And your husband? Is he still-" He trailed off, making that guttural sound rattle in his chest again, a habit it seemed.

"Husband? No, I'm not married."

This seemed to throw him off a little, and I could practically hear his mind scrambling a bit.

"Oh... Are ye staying with some distant relatives, then?"

"No, no, I'm a graduate student. At UNC. And what about you? I don't even know your name, or why you're sneaking around Indian villages at midnight, either." I said, with as much humor as I could muster. He was quiet for longer than was comfortable, and I could feel his eyes on me, searching for my form in the darkness.

"My name is Henry Alasdair Duncan MacLeod."

"Quite a mouthful." I quipped, and I could hear the smile in his voice when he continued.

"I'm verra well acquainted with our mutual friend, Kuruk. He had come to find me and my brother-in-law, knowing we were on our way to trade, as we do every fortnight or so. He wanted us to hasten our journey to the village. For you."

My heart flushed with warmth, and a small, humble smile came to my lips.

 _Kuruk... He only left, not to hunt, but to fetch the traders. He must have been very aware that his people were getting low on patience with me... My dear friend._

"I see... So you're the trader I've been hearing so much about." I said, the wariness I had felt about these so called 'traders' creeping into my tone.

"Aye, my brother-in-law Gavin and Kuruk are waiting just outside the village, where I was supposed to bring ye. We were to swap our stocks, and then take ye with us. He thought as long as the trade was carried out, no matter if it be in the dark of night or no, the Cherokee would be pleased enough no to come after us. They may thirst for yer blood, sure as the sun, but they care more for the supplies we bring."

"Hmm," I said carefully, "And what were you going to do with me once you'd saved me from the bloodthirsty savages?"

He was caught off guard, quite understanding my meaning.

 _I know what evils men are capable of, and I know temptation touches all of us. Power over another can be an all-consuming drug, even for the most seemly of men._

"Nothing debaucherous, I assure ye... No harm will come to ye so long as yer under the care of me and mine," He said, his voice strong and firm, and I could hear the truth of it ring in his tone, "The plan was to take ye back to the homestead, get you well enough to travel, and take ye to Charleston, where passage may be booked to wherever it pleases ye."

I listened to him speak intently, distracted by the lilt of his accent, the rolling R's that spilled from his tongue into the abyss between us. Something about his speech, as pleasant as it was to listen to, was off... Just strange enough to notice. More formal, yet not at all.

I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

 _And how many Scots have I met in my entire life? Maybe three or four? What exactly am I judging the 'strangeness' by?_

I took a deep breath, stretching my sore body as I did so.

"Well... That is quite the elaborate escape plan. But somewhere near Pisgah's camping area, at the trailhead, my car is there, you could just take me there. Or I could call my family."

"I... Apologies, mistress, I don't quite understand yer meaning."

 _Mistress?..._

"A phone? If you have a phone, I could just call my family. Or the police?" I said, tilting my head a bit, the confusion obvious in my tone.

"Ye sound exhausted, lass, perhaps ye should lay yon head upon the ground, sleep a bit." He said, and I frowned into the darkness, my eyes falling toward the ground.

"No, I-"

 _Why doesn't he seem to know what a car is? Or a phone? How far out in the boonies are we, for Christ's sake?_

I quickly decided a change in subject was in order, the awkward tension growing by the second in the silence between us. Trying to get him to understand cars or phones seemed a bit out of my energy level at the moment, at any rate.

"Well... Henry Alasdair Duncan MacLeod... My name is Evelyn Crenshaw, but you can call me Evy if you want. Everyone does."

"Your servant, mistress," he said, rather gallantly. I refrained from giggling, and admitted to myself that he was right, about me being exhausted that is. I shifted my body so that the least amount of battered, bruised, burned limbs were inconvenienced, and closed my eyes, seeing no perceivable difference in the dark.

 _Please let me get back home tomorrow._

 _Please let us live._

* * *

Ihad been dreaming of Lily, my dog from when I was young, and the only actual pet I had ever had. She was a short little thing, with the body of a Corgi, and the head of a Retriever, the color of light caramel when she was young like me. Years later, when she was old, her fur became a light yellow, just like the flower for which she was named. She had been my best friend for all of her life, and we did most everything together when we were growing up. She and I used to lay in the backyard, in the soft spring grass, soaking up the sun with my head resting on her stomach.

I could still feel the soft brush of fur on my cheek, the slow rise and fall of my head with her breathing, when I was fully roused by the shouting. Native voices outside the hut we were in, arguing in heated tones. Dim sunlight lined the deerskin flap by the entrance, was squeezing its way through the tiny cracks between the wood and mud in the walls.

"Dinna be frightened," I heard the whisper come from just next to me, and I turned to him, wide eyes fixed on the ground. Despite my efforts to obey his instructions, I could feel my heart pounding, could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

 _I could very well die today. We both could._

"But I am," I said, my voice barely audible above the heated words of the Natives outside. My stomach rolled unpleasantly.

I heard him shift so that he was in front of me, and I was now staring at his knees, shuffling to get closer to me.

"Look at me, lass."

I blinked, looking up into the only kind face within a couple miles. Henry Alasdair Duncan MacLeod was a broad shouldered man, perhaps my age, perhaps just a bit older. He had the beginnings of a short beard growing on his face, failing to hide the high cheekbones and sharp jaw that gave him the severe look of a dangerous man. Had I not known he was rather kind by the numbered hours we had been acquainted, the stern angle of his thick eyebrows may have caused me to be wary of him. He had dark, curly, shoulder length hair, originally pulled back, but now coming undone, strands sticking to the sweat on his forehead. His eyes were a startling blue, so intent upon mine, and so unnervingly piercing, that I found I had the urge to look away.

I also found that I could not.

"I made a promise, to Kuruk, and to you as well. I vowed that no harm would come to ye, did I no?"

I nodded my head slowly, flinching when a loud thump sounded against the wall of the hut, accompanied by a series of deafening words of fury.

"Right then. Gavin will have arrived, along with Kuruk, and together we will sort out this kerfuffle, aye?" He said, so earnest that the tumbling of my stomach ceased, and I took a deep breath, nodding again, finally tearing my eyes away from his.

"Yes. Okay. You're right, we just have to stay calm." I said, more to myself than to him.

"Evelyn?"

"Hmm?"

"Ye said everyone calls ye Evy, aye?" He said, and I nodded, "Well, everyone calls me Alec. Everyone that kens me well enough, that is, and considering the circumstances... I figure ye've earned the honor."

I couldn't help the slow-growing smile on my lips, especially when he returned it. His blue eyes crinkled just at the edges, making for such an infectious grin that my spirits were lifted despite my unease.

He opened his mouth to say more, leaning forward to do so, when quite suddenly the deerskin flap was tossed aside, sunlight flooding in. I squinted my eyes against the brightness, blinking a few times. Two of the arguing Indians rushed in, still squabbling back and forth as one wrenched me to my feet, his grip on my arm so tight I cried out a bit in pain. The other man was trying to get my companion to his feet, but having a harder time at it. I kept my eyes on Alec, and his own remained on me, trying to silently reassure me as the man practically dragged me outside. He led me to the center of the village where he pushed me down in front of the fire pit. I dashed my knees on the ground, gritting my teeth and ignoring them as they throbbed. In fact, there wasn't a single part of me that wasn't throbbing in pain at this point, it seemed.

I lifted my head to look around, at what must have been the entire village, gathered for whatever it was they wanted to do to us. I recognized all the faces by now, knew many of the names, and yet I only saw sympathy in two. Little Naira, and her mother. Naira was sobbing, clutching her mother's clothes, while her mother looked on with an expression of mingled uncertainty and guilt.

 _Okay, well this isn't a good sign._

Alec was pushed down beside me, but I couldn't bear to look at him. I would definitely burst out into tears if I did. The exhaustion, the stress, the pain, the possibility of imminent death... It was all just a bit too much. But Alec began spouting out words in the Native tongue, for which he was quickly silenced by a sharp slap to the face. I finally chanced a look at him, and he was looking at me as well, face turned by the blow to his face. His eyes were shocked, as if he hadn't expected such violence. That's when I noticed his clothing, of all things.

He was wearing a ridiculous outfit, and for a brief, insane second, I nearly burst out laughing hysterically. He was dressed like someone from that Mel Gibson movie about the American Revolution, or something. He wore a dark blue vest over a white linen shirt, tucked into black breeches with long socks that had fallen down to his ankles, revealing his calves, peppered with dark curling hairs.

It was as if he knew he was going to a Native American settlement, and just couldn't resist doing his own little re-enactment, decided to dress the part. Again, I had to resist the mad urge to fall down to the ground laughing.

 _This entire situation is just absolutely crazy! Is there one thing, just one thing, that is normal, about any of this?_

The urge to laugh quickly faded, swallowed deep into my stomach, when the Chief stepped in front of me, holding an axe of some kind, perhaps a tomahawk. Feathers and clay beads hung from leather strips tied around the hilt. He held it close to my face, staring at me, and then at Alec, with that stony, serious face of his. Silence permeated the entire crowd. I noticed the sky, then. It was purple and grey, streaked with red. My frazzled brain immediately withdrew some old rhyme my mom used to say, in a funny pirate's voice.

 _Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning._

I hoped I would hear her say that again, sometime...

The Chief lifted his face to the sky and began chanting something, raising the tomahawk above his head and walking in a slow circle around us. I glanced at Alec, but he was watching the Chief, listening, his face pale. Seeing his reaction, my heart kicked up a notch, my breathing quick. I knew now.

 _We're going to die. Red sky, indeed._

I looked around for something, anything, to help get us out of this. A charred stick was laying just outside of the fire pit, but I didn't know how that would help us with my hands tied behind my back.

 _Maybe I could grab it, and swing it around in a circle and-_

I let out a sob when the chief grabbed my hair, wrenching my head back. Tears sprang to my eyes as they met the Chief's, but I found no reply, no response to my plight. In the depths of those deep black orbs, I found only resolution, and rage.

Alec began speaking furiously, shouting in their language at the top of his lungs. I could see him lunge to his feet beside me, but he was quickly subdued. I could hear fists connecting with his flesh, and I let out another hoarse sob. The Chief turned his attention back to me, raising the tomahawk to the top of my head, the tip barely touching my scalp.

 _Oh my God, he's going to scalp me. Oh God, please._

Afraid to thrash, lest the sharp edge of the tomahawk simply do its job quicker, I was paralyzed. I felt the tomahawk begin to cut into my skin, and let out a scream so ragged and horrible, I could hardly believe it was coming from me.

Suddenly a loud, piercing gunshot tore through the air, and the pain in my scalp subsided. Blood trickled down my forehead, down my nose, onto my lips. I collapsed to the ground once the Chief released me, my muscles refusing to cooperate after thinking they would never have to work again. The crowd was murmuring, looking around, searching for the source. Another gunshot sounded, and they all fell silent. The crowd parted, and I saw a tall, skinny man, dressed similarly to Alec walk quickly towards the Chief, two old-looking guns held in his hands.

He jerked the guns at the Chief, saying something in their language in a wavering tone. I could feel the rope on my wrists being sawed at, and then freed at last. The tall man never lowered his guns, eyes firmly set on the Chief, until someone in the crowd took a step towards him. He pointed one gun at the man, bellowing words of warning at him, I supposed. The man stepped back into the crowd, glaring at our savior.

"Get ye up, lass, c'mon now."

I felt hands on me, lifting me to my feet, but I was wobbling so badly I couldn't get them to support my body. Alec grunted, sweeping my shaking legs out from under me and carrying me through the crowd. I watched as faces passed me, the same faces who would have had me scalped, and happily. Except one.

 _Kuruk._

My eyes widened, and I lifted my head, trying to get a better look. He was far away, in the very back of the crowd, watching with a grim expression, his brow furrowed. I supposed he couldn't have come in guns blazing, as well. He'd be killed for betraying his people.

I was glad to see him one last time, though. I tried a smile, failing miserably, but he nodded his head, and I was satisfied.

 _Thank you, my friend._

Alec began to jog once we were out of the village, and soon Gavin, who I assumed the tall man with the guns was, joined us.

"Damn ye, Alec! Can ye ever just stick to the plan, man? Ye were supposed to sneak in, and sneak out. 'Simple', I remember you sayin', 'It'll be simple'!" Gavin gasped, glancing behind us every few seconds. His hands shook around the guns.

"It wasna me this time, it was yon wee lass here. Graceful, this one." Alec said, adjusting his grip on me so that I wasn't jostled so badly as he increased his speed.

"Do ye think I'm joking? Did ye stop to think about Blair while ye were fraternizing with our savage friends? Ye nearly died, and brought me along with ye this time!" Gavin growled.

"What would ye have me do, then? Leave her to them, and live the rest of what life I have as a damned coward?" Alec shot back, and I took this opportunity to interject.

"Dinna be so dramatic-"

"Alec, I can walk now. Let me down," I said firmly, feeling the strength returning to my bones after having the daylights scared out of me. I was still shaking but I could run. I tapped his chest with my hand, and he begrudgingly let me down. With Alec's hand on the small of my back, I only swayed a bit before forcing my legs to churn beneath me, and the three of us ran for all we were worth. There was no time for introductions, nor pleasantries. I simply followed their lead, to where they had camped the previous night, waiting for this doomed plan to be carried out. There were two horses, hobbled and saddled with several bags, full to bursting with whatever they had traded with Kuruk for. Gavin wasted no time, ripping the cloth hobble from his dark brown horse's dancing legs and swinging into the saddle.

Alec did much the same, stopping to hoist me up into the saddle first. He swung up behind me onto his bronze-coated steed, and kicked her into a gallop.


	6. The Snake and the Tempest

Lightning flashed overhead, thunder following soon after to pierce the tense silence between us all. The air was becoming thick, the tang of a storm on the wind that blew my gnarled hair back from my face. My new companions had pushed the horses to their limits, until white foam collected on the poor beasts' chests and I thought even their mighty hearts might give out. We rode hard, over what seemed to be an endless amount of hills and mountains, each one a new and more difficult obstacle. Not to mention, I couldn't wait to get my own two aching feet on the ground, and that strange man's arm from around my waist.

I clenched my jaw, lightning flashing once again. Throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, it revealed my companions clear as day, huddled farther into the cave, away from where I sat at the gaping mouth. Gavin had spotted it as the sun was setting. How he had, I still didn't know. The cave itself wasn't very large, really just an outcropping of rock jutting awkwardly out from the side of some boulder an ancient glacier happened to have missed long ago. I found I didn't appreciate the close quarters, nor did I appreciate much of what had happened in the last twenty four hours.

I also found I missed my friend. My only friend in the time I'd been lost to the rest of the world, forgotten by everything I had ever known. He had become the very meaning of safety and comfort to me.

 _Kuruk._

 _I wonder if he's okay. If the chief punished him on my behalf._

A hand brushed my shoulder and I practically leapt to my feet, teeth bared like some kind of animal My burnt hand clenched instinctively into an extremely painful fist. With my eye still swollen, and the dried blood on my face from the hatchet… I would bet everything I had, which at the moment I supposed was nothing, that I definitely looked like an animal.

I felt like one. Wahwala Zuzeca... A Pretty Little Snake, indeed.

I wished suddenly that I could grow fangs, and a strong, lithe body to protect myself with. Being human was rather useless. No claws, no fur, no fangs, talons, or wings. Living in the wilderness and depending on others for protection was quickly becoming less appealing each day.

"Don't touch me," I said, every bit the viper I wished I was. I was sick to death of a threat around each new corner, and as far as I was concerned, these men may have saved my life, but my trust was now a very difficult thing to earn.

"Easy lass," Alec's gentle Scottish lilt murmured, and lightning showed his large form to be crouching on the rocky cave floor, now looking up at me, wide eyes stained pale by the blinding flash, "You should eat."

"I'm not hungry."

In the darkness following the light, I couldn't see his expression, but I got the feeling that he was gathering his patience. I wasn't the only one who had just had a very long day, after all.

"Do ye no feel that cut? That burn? How about the wee shiner painting that eye of yours? If ye dinna eat, ye won't heal, and we still have quite some time of travel ahead of us," he said, the exaggerated calmness of his voice grating on my nerves. I stood silently, considering his words, and as lightning flashed once again, I saw the bread and dried meat he held for me.

 _Where the hell are these guys taking me…_

I let out a shaky sigh, relaxing enough to sit back down next to him. He handed me the food and I nibbled on it, slowly. The bread was stale, but buttery, and my stomach clenched almost painfully at the pleasant taste as I rolled it about my tongue. I supposed I hadn't eaten in quite some time.

"Blair's bannocks are to die for."

"Blair. Your… sister?" I said between bites of the bannock, wishing I had water to wash down the dry substance. Alec must have read my mind because he untied a pouch from his belt and handed it to me. It sloshed with cool liquid, and I eagerly put it to my lips, only to be met with a stout and heady concoction. I sputtered, but chugged it anyway. Some kind of watered down alcohol.

"Cousin, you'll meet her soon enough."

I nodded, nearly finished already with the bannock and moving on to the meat.

"Mistress Evelyn-"

"Just Evy," I said, raising a brow at the weirdness constantly spewing out of this man's mouth. He hesitated, and lightning revealed his lips to be pursed as if he were doing something he'd rather not be doing.

"Mistress Evy," he incorrectly corrected, "When ye said… about your family. Ye truly are alone? Are they not alive? Is there no one ye can go to?"

I paused, and something about the way he was so stuck on this subject, about how curious he seemed about me, made me want to do something I don't normally do.

Lie.

"Well… I haven't been home in a while, but… My fiancé… He came here with me. He's out looking for me right now, I know it" I said, my tone firm and unwavering. I took a swig of the mystery drink.

He considered me, and I could feel his eyes upon the side of my face. I'm not sure what made me say that. Perhaps the instinct to not let a stranger know I'm completely alone in this world. One of the first things a young woman learns in this cruel world is to never let a stranger, especially a man, know she's alone.

 _I've never been a particularly good liar, though…_

"I see. Ye did say you werena married, not that you werena spoken for. Well… Perhaps he'll end up in Charlotte if he's near. We could take ye there instead, if ye so desire," he said. I pursed my lips, taking a deep breath.

 _Or you could just take me to Durham, like I said before… but okay. Better to just agree with everything they say, get a hold of my family, and go from there._

"I just need to get to civilization."

He nodded, taking that answer for now, the thunder from the last flash of lightning rumbling the rock hanging above our heads.

"We've a hard few days ahead. You should get some sleep."

I rolled my eyes, even though I knew he couldn't see.

"You're awfully bossy, you know."

He laughed softly, the deep timbre somehow pleasant, soothing some jagged edge inside me. Rain began to pitter patter upon the leaves, cool moisture spraying lightly upon my bare ankles.

"Oh aye. Ye think so, do ye? Just you wait until Blair has ye in her clutches," he said, getting to his feet and hauling me up with him. I was grateful for the help, as sore as I was from riding the day away, among my other aches and pains.

"Are you two ever goin' to sleep? Seems ye've been gabbing for hours," I heard Gavin's grumbled complaint from the back of the cave. He was sprawled out on a deerskin, using a saddle bag as a pillow. Apparently, they had set up one for each of us while I had been lost in thought, gazing outside at this screwed up world I can't seem to escape.

"Aye, if ye'll quit nagging," Alec muttered, kneeling on one of the deerskins. I took the last one, a small and rueful smile upon my lips as I laid my head carefully on the saddle bag, avoiding cut and bruise alike. Even though the bar had been set extremely low, I had to admit the two Scots had made much nicer company than most of the Cherokee I'd come to know.

Most of them.

My last few thoughts as my consciousness slowly died out to the sound of raindrops and wailing wind were of the only small comforts I had known these last weeks.

 _Soft furs warmed by a glowing fire._

 _Large yet gentle hands, calloused with honest work._

 _A suffering man whose kindness survived._

 _A hunter's knife whittling away at a small oak Snake._

* * *

I awoke shivering from a rather restless sleep. Blinking away the dew upon my eyelashes, I let out a breath that became steam in the chilled air before me. Light streamed through the trees outside of the cave, but just barely. A small defiance of the early morning in the face of the storm of the night. Letting out a shaking sigh, I blearily reached down to my feet for the furs, meaning to drag them over my head, but I clutched nothing except my deerskin pants. Opening my eyes fully, I remembered why I was in a cave in the middle of a North Carolina State Park with two strange men sporting Colonial dress.

 _Well, maybe just the how, not exactly the why…_

As I sat up, rubbing warmth back into my hands and arms, Gavin came striding into the cave, having to duck to accommodate his gangly height.

"Morning, lass. Have yerself a bannock and a nip of ale, we'll be leaving soon."

I almost shuddered at the thought of another day's entirety being spent on horseback. My thighs and back were still screeching in protest. Feeling the dried blood on my face crack at my grimace, I wished more than anything, though, for a warm bath. Thick shampoo, a big bar of rose scented soap to cleanse these violent and frightening weeks off of my skin, and replace it with familiarity…

"C'mon now, early to rise, the Lord's delight!" Gavin said as he rolled up his deerskin, and his cheer soured my mood even more. Not to mention his already loud voice echoed both in the space of the cave, and the inside of my aching skull.

"That doesn't even rhyme," I grumbled, using my good hand to sit up, carefully stretching my aching limbs. Gavin chuckled, giving me a sideways glance. He took in my appearance, seeming to be trying, and failing, to smother a grin.

"If ye dinna mind me saying… I daresay ye've seen better days. That's a right lovely hairstyle, is it French?" He said, letting out a bellow of a laugh. I reached up, patting my hair, and finding it piled in a rats nest on the left side of my head, a result of how I'd fallen asleep.

 _Listen here, if I had time in between being incarcerated, beaten, and fleeing for my life to tidy up a bit, I would have!_

Yet, the light jab gave me a pleasant feeling I hadn't had in what felt like ages. Camaraderie. Joking around. If he wanted to roast me, I found I didn't mind. I actually quite enjoyed Gavin's lightheartedness now that I was fully awake.

"Leave the poor lass be, Gav. Did ye miss the part where she nearly died yesterday?" I heard Alec say before he came in, dusting his hands off on his breeches, "Ye great blundering fool."

Gavin grunted an apology, and Alec gave me a long-suffering look before kneeling to roll up his deerskin as well, hoisting the saddle bag up onto his broad shoulder. Before taking it out to the horses, who I could hear snorting outside the cave, he paused and turned to me.

"If ye require… time to yourself, there's a wee river just to the east of here. Small enough that the rain wouldn't have made it too fast to bathe in. Blair made some rosemary soap to trade, but... seeing as how we shall be keeping it…" he said, nodded, and left to finish packing up.

 _Rosemary soap._

 _A bath._

The thought was so delightful that despite the knowledge that I would freeze in that river, and the goosebumps already on my skin, I leapt to my feet. Gavin got me the soap, pointed me east, and I made a beeline for the babbling of running water. Stripping without a single qualm and toeing into the river, I couldn't help but screech at the freezing water. It was the quickest bath I'd ever taken, viciously scrubbing the earth-scented bar of soap over my skin and hair until I was clean, and then catapulting myself out of the water. I loathed to put my dirty clothes back on, so I cleaned them with just a bit of soap and water in the dirtiest spots, and donned the damp deerskin once again.

As I rung my hair out, already drying into curls, I thought of what lay ahead.

 _Not Durham, but Charlotte. It's as if Alec didn't know what Durham was, that it even existed. And to be so confused by the fact that I may have come out here alone. I know we're out in the boonies, but… It's like everyone and everything is at least several steps behind._

 _I can't figure these people out…_

* * *

For what must have been hours, no one spoke. There was no conversation except the horses snorting and huffing with the effort of carrying us up and down hills. Riding with Alec again, his arm jostled against my waist with every step of the horse. I focused instead on my surroundings, the red and gold bursts that were the trees, the crunch of the leaves beneath us that had already fallen. Gavin had led us up onto a ridge, and far below, I thought I spied the village we had fled from the day before, shrouded in the shadow of the two mountains it was nestled between.

 _I wonder if Kuruk is there now, in his hut. Whittling away at some new animal for Naira._

I lifted my eyes to the horizon, unconsciously searching for any sign of civilization besides that village, that place of fear I'd come to know. There were no gaps between the trees to indicate roads. Not as far as the eye could see.

Suddenly, from some unspoken decision, Gavin slowed his horse to a walk, giving her the reins and allowing her to stretch her neck. Alec did the same, and I felt our noble steed inhale deeply, the relief palpable. The poor things were drenched in sweat again, just like yesterday.

"Can ye walk, Mistress Evy?" Alec said in my ear quietly, as if not wanting to startle me. I was quite suddenly aware that his free hand rested gently on my hip, that my back bumped his chest in time with our horse's gait. I hadn't had time to think of such trivial things, social graces and propriety, not to even mention how I looked. My eye didn't throb anymore, but that didn't mean it wasn't hideous still…

I cleared my throat, noticing all of the sudden how incredibly thirsty I was, now that the need to speak had arisen. It was almost difficult, through the dryness. The ale, despite its slightly sour and chemical taste, sounded very appealing.

"I can," I said, and he grunted, swinging out of the saddle behind me, then offering me his hand. I took it, sliding off as gently as possible, yet I still stumbled. He steadied me, brow furrowed.

"Are ye sure? She can carry you just fine, it's me who's the real burden." He said his eyes watching me intently, darting up to the wide scab on my forehead.

"I'll be alright," I said shortly, starting to walk forward toward where Gavin and his horse stood, both watching us. Being on a horse was the last thing I wanted right now.

"You'll be better up there," Alec said behind me, and suddenly I was thrust back up into the saddle by strong hands, and he led the horse onward.

 _Alright, fine, whatever you say, bossy-ass._

"Blair will have our heads, ye know that…" Gavin said, breaking the silence, his tone ominous.

"And for which reason do ye think she'll have them over? The nearly getting shot, the nearly getting scalped, or coming home with nay but what she sent us out with?" Alec says, as if it had all been simple, hilarious shenanigans.

"Definitely the supplies. She's been on about getting that beaver fur for a fortnight. Not to mention the dried apples… Forget the scalping, she'll do it herself!" Gavin said, laughing in that deep voice of his. Alec grinned, glancing up at me.

"My cousin isn't as terrifying as we like to make her seem. Once ye get past all the sharp edges, she's actually quite kind."

"And my most beloved, bonny wife." Gavin said grandly, adoration seeping into his tone.

"She sounds like quite the formidable woman," I said, and Gavin chuckled.

A few moments of companionable silence passed, and I began to feel grateful for Alec's executive decision to keep me in the saddle. I felt so tired. To keep myself alert, I focused on other things. For starter's, my rescuers' strange outfits.

"So…" I begin, not wanting to be entirely rude and uncouth, but incredibly curious, "Do you… always wear that clothing? With the vest and the breeches and all?"

Alec turns to give me an odd look, almost shocked.

"Well, no, we dinna always wear the breeks… Occasion calls for a kilt every so often, ye ken." He says slowly, as if trying to puzzle out where this conversation is headed. Gavin throws a questioning look over his shoulder, and I see Alec give a miniscule shrug.

"Well, I just mean… It's odd, for this day and age, isn't it?"

"Are ye scolding us for our sense of fashion, lass?" Alec says, chuckling when Gavin bursts out in laughter.

"I'd never dream of it," I say, grinning, the sound of their laughter infectious after days of nothing but cruelty. Yet my question remains unanswered.

An unsettling cloud blooms in the back of my mind, looming like the thunderheads that rattled the cave last night. Impossible, but…

 _Some people are just plain strange, no explanation needed, I suppose. I can't complain, given they've saved my life. Yet…_

 _They… it all doesn't make any sense._

 _If I didn't know any better…_

I reluctantly thought back to the day I got struck by lightning, or the earthquake happened, or whatever it was. In my head, I made a list of things I knew. Knew without a doubt in my mind…

 _I touched the runes on the stone. I passed out. I woke up and all known landmarks were different. I lived in a Cherokee village for the better part of a month, one that didn't seem to know anything about the modern world. White men attacked them out of apparent racial hatred like we were in a history book chapter. No one seems to be out looking for me, or at least no one has found me. No sign of roads or civilization where I know for a fact there should be. Gavin and Alec are wearing clothing from… well, definitely the past._

 _The past._

I swallowed, the dryness making it difficult. That cloud in the back of my mind grew larger, and darker.

"Well, I'll be sure to send for the finest silks and cravats from Paris, seeing as how our guest has such elevated tastes," Gavin said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

I blinked, shaking myself out of my little reverie.

"Speaking of, how much longer do you think we've got until we get there?" I asked, and Alec's eyes squinted as he calculated in his head.

"Probably about two days if we ride through most of the night tonight."

My jaw dropped. My poor thighs shook.

 _This is a true nightmare…_

* * *

Alec had been wrong.

It had taken us three days due to more thunderstorms hindering our progress, and around noon on the third day, feeling like death, covered in sores, and every inch of me aching, we approached the homestead Gavin had been speaking about nonstop. It included a few cabin-like buildings, three to be exact. One was larger, and situated in the center of a rather large clearing, tilled soil surrounding all three sides except the front, where a short wooden door sat. There was a small shack a ways off to the side of the building, near the tree line, acting as what I assumed to be an outhouse. The third building was smaller, and I could hear the comfortable sound of animal contentment, grunts and soft squeals coming from it.

 _A barn, then…_

There was nothing decorative about these buildings, and it was clear that they were built by hand. Rough-hewn and almost charming in a way.

"Well, what do ye think, Mistress Evy?" Gavin said, pride seeping into his voice. I glanced over, and he was watching me, gauging my reaction. I smiled weakly.

I was so tired, and so cold, and so… hopeless.

Over the three days of our journey, I had become more and more convinced that I was never going to find my way home. As insane as it sounded, I was becoming convinced that my home simply did not exist in this place.

Yet, at least…

I recalled the many frustrating and confusing conversations I'd had with the men, including a debate over the existence of cars, which they scoffed at.

" _Ye saw a carriage, lass, one that had gotten away from its driver on a steep hill.."_

Not to mention, they didn't seem to know about Durham at all, no matter how hard I pressed. I had to start thinking of other possibilities besides the fact that they may just be uneducated hilljacks. It wouldn't make sense, especially if they had come all the way from Scotland, for them not to know about things such as cars and cities that most definitely existed…

 _Unless their ancestors somehow immigrated from Scotland hundreds of years ago and they simply hadn't changed their ways, nor encountered modern civilization, since then._

 _Not likely…_

"Lass?"

I cleared my throat, physically shaking myself into alertness. I was so tired.

"It's lovely, lovely craftsmanship. You… made all of this?" I said, and even to my own ears, my voice sounded weak.

"Mistress Evelyn, are ye feeling ill?" The concerned murmur came from where Alec sat behind me, his voice vibrating in his chest against my back.

"Just tired." I said, perking up when I saw a woman, her blonde hair all I could make out from this distance. She popped her head out the front door of the largest building, waving excitedly.

I flinched when a cool hand pressed against my forehead, feeling admittedly delightful. My skin was burning, I realized, yet chills shivered up and down my spine.

"She's got the fever, Gav," Alec said, and almost immediately he swung down off of Wynda, the mare that had carried us to safety thus far.

"Get her to the house, Blair will have a wee something for her. Dinna worry, lass, ye'll be in the finest hands in the entirety of the Colonies," Gavin said, and suddenly I felt very ill, indeed.

"Colonies," I croaked.

The world began to spin too fast. I felt as if I were wildly careening towards something terrifying, a black abyss, an endless crevasse, some kind of Hellish monster about to devour the Earth beneath my feet.

My hand lashed out, clutching at Alec's shoulder where he stood next to me gathering up the reins to lead Wynda toward the house.

He turned to me, surprised at the strength of my grip. His eyes met mine, and I knew he saw terror there. I could feel the bloodless pallor that no doubt graced my face, my breathing becoming shallower. He laid his own hand over mine, the concern furrowing his brow blooming into complete distress.

The entire reality of the situation came crashing upon me at once.

 _I truly am in the past. Maddie is dead, just like Ashley. My parents never existed, everyone I ever loved..._

"I can't lose anyone else," I muttered, tears blurring my spinning view of the world.

 _Everything is gone._

 _I have nothing._

The world tilted suddenly into shadow, and I knew that the terrifying something had reached me, that ever-dark abyss, and that I was not returning.


End file.
